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THE MASTER MOTIVE 


A Tale of the 
Days of Champlain 


BY 

LAURE CONAN 

T 0~- am* 


TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH BY 

THERESA A. GETHIN 



ST. LOUIS, MO., 1909 
Published by B. Herder 
1 7 South Broadway 

FREIBURG (BADEN) I LONDON AND EDINBURGH 

B. HERDER | SANDS & CO. 



'f2> n y\ 






LIBRARY of congress 
Two Cooies Received 

FEb 21 1809 

, Copy ria nt iintry 

CLASS XXc, No, 

2.310^)0 

COPY 3. 


Copyright 1909 

By Joseph Gummersbach. 



— BECKTOLD— 

PRINTING AND BOOK MFG. CO. 
ST. LOUIS, MO. 


THE 


MASTER** MOTIVE 

CHAPTER I 


In the first days of spring, in the year 1625, 
Monsieur Gamier, member of the King’s Council, 
of Paris, had quitted his city residence, to enjoy the 
delights of his villa at Auteuil. One evening, on 
his return home, his wife on greeting him asked 
if he had been to Port Royal. 

“ I have just returned from there,” the Magis- 
trate answered, as he seated himself near his wife, 
before the cheerful fire burning in the grate. “ Act- 
ing upon your wise suggestion I saw the Abbess 
first.” 

“ And what did Mother Angelica say?” asked 
Madame Gamier, folding up the tapestry on which 
she had been working. 

“ She told me I was the bearer of very sad tid- 
ings. She said that Mademoiselle Meliand’s de- 
parture will be a cause of general grief for Port 
Royal. Moreover, she asked me not to mention it 
to the child, as she wishes to do so herself, and at 
the last minute. She seems to think that Gisella 
will be so broken-hearted at leaving them that she 
will not be able to attend properly to her work after 
being told.” 


I 


2 THE MASTER MOTIVE. 

“ That would never have suggested itself to us, 
would it ? ” said Madame Gamier pleasantly. 

“ Ah ! but the Arnaulds are indefatigable work- 
ers, and Mother Angelica is endowed with many 
of her family’s characteristics.” 

“ What a strange career she has had,” mused the 
Magistrate ; “ Abbess of Port Royal at eleven years 
of age, she becomes its reformer at eighteen.” 

“ Nevertheless, I admire the Mother Abbess,” 
said Madame Gamier, enthusiastically. 

“ Every one does,” added her husband, “ and in 
spite of the irregularity of her vocation, she has 
proved herself to be a remarkable woman. But, to 
be candid with you, I do not care for Port Royal. 
I always come away from there feeling dejected.” 
And the Magistrate stretched his feet a little nearer 
the cheerful fire. 

“ The place is certainly not gay, but it has its 
attractions — ” 

“ I am quite impatient,” continued Monsieur Gar- 
nier, “ to go and take Gisella away from there. 
How unhappy the child must have been ! With her 
joyful, loving nature, it must have been a torture to 
have been immured within those dismal walls, where 
there is neither sunshine nor life, all these long 
years.” 

“ Surely, you are not going to waste your sym- 
pathy on Gisella,” broke in Madame Gamier. 
“ You know she has a temperament which turns 
everything to account. She is particularly favored. 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


3 


I do not doubt, she often hears the angels singing.” 

“ She sings like an angel herself,” remarked the 
Magistrate. 

“ I am thinking of how happy Charles will be to 
find such a fiancee awaiting him, on his return from 
sunny Italy.” 

“ As unusual as it is agreeable ! Charles is a 
very fortunate boy, but — ” 

“ How handsome he is ! ” Madame Gamier ex- 
claimed, as she gazed at his portrait, which hung 
above the mantel. 

“ He certainly is,” answered the husband, a smile 
of proud tenderness lighting up his intellectual face. 

Being rather short-sighted, he rose and went 
nearer to the mantel, the better to admire his son 
Charles, a handsome young man of twenty. 

Having finished his studies, young Gamier had 
expressed the wish of visiting Italy, and although the 
youngest son of the family, he was in reality like an 
only child, his two older brothers having entered 
the religious life immediately upon leaving college. 

“ We shall soon see him now; he was to leave 
Rome shortly after Easter,” the Magistrate said, re- 
seating himself. 

Madame Gamier was silent, but the joy of her 
heart was reflected in her happy face. Still hand- 
some and graceful, the lady’s fair complexion was 
somewhat faded; but time had not, could not, rob 
her of the beauty of her sweet smile. 


4 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


“ When shall we go to get Gisella ? ” asked 
Monsieur Gamier, after a moment’s silence. “ She 
has been away from us long enough now. I should 
like her to see the men working in the fields at 
Bois-Belle this spring.” v 

The villa bore this rather odd name, because of 
the beauty and seclusion of its gardens. 

“ Providence has arranged all things well,” re- 
plied Madame Gamier, as if in answer to her hus- 
band’s thoughts. “ At their age to feel a love so 
true and deep, and one of such long standing. 
Surely Bois-Belle will be an earthly paradise when 
we have them both with us.” 

“ I would gladly hasten that time,” said the Mag- 
istrate, “ for I am anxious to see Charles settled in 
life.” 

Madame Gamier looked at her husband inquir- 
ingly. 

“ Has the change we both noticed in Charles 
made you uneasy ? ” she asked. “ Do you attach 
any importance to his opinions on the religious 
life?” 

“ Yes, at times, I do, but I am quite decided about 
what I want.” 

“ You must not worry about it, dear. Naturally 
the example of his two brothers must have impressed 
him very deeply. But he loves Gisella so tenderly 
— and has for such a long, long time.” 


CHAPTER II 


Born of a distinguished family belonging to the 
magistracy, Gisella Meliand was left an orphan 
while still quite young. She was a distant relative 
of Madame Gamier, so her husband, who had been 
named guardian, sent her to the abbey at Port Royal 
to be educated. This celebrated abbey, which, a 
little less than a century later, was razed to the 
ground by order of the King, was at the time of our 
story in the first fervor of its reform, Saint Francis 
of Sales choosing to call it his abode of delights. 

Therefore, when Monsieur and Madame Gar- 
nier found themselves charged with the care of the 
little orphan, they decided that the best education 
they could secure for her would be the one given by 
the Religious of Port Royal. 

So Gisella grew up in that renowned monastery, 
which was so closely associated with the great an- 
cestral names of Europe and with memories of the 
voluntary renunciation of wealth and position. 

Built down in the hollow of a barren valley, sur- 
rounded and over-shadowed by wild woods, Port 
Royal presented a dismal aspect. There was noth- 
5 


6 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


in g there to brighten the gloomy misty solitude. A 
kitchen-garden and a few well-grown chestnut trees 
scattered here and there, were the only things to 
gladden the eye. 

The church, owing to the settling of the ground, 
was gradually sinking, and at that time it could be 
entered only by descending ten or twelve steps. 
Yet the old abbey, buried as it was in a narrow se- 
cluded spot, exercised a fascinating influence over 
many souls. 

Madame de Sevigne called it a “ Thebaide in a 
frightful valley ” ; and when writing to her daugh- 
ter, she expressed her delight at having seen that 
holy solitude about which she had heard so much. 

Gloom has very little charm for children ; so Port 
Royal, so dear to the hearts of Pascal and Racine, 
must have impressed them as being old, dull and 
lonely. 

Life at the abbey was even hard for the pupils. 
But in that age of health and vigor, no one thought 
of complaining or expressing surprise; and many 
young girls, belonging to the first families of 
France, were brought up at Port Royal. 

Gisella went there when she was seven years old. 
Holidays were unknown at that time, so the child 
had spent nine years within the walls of the old 
abbey; rising at four o’clock, summer and winter, 
and working hard from morning until night. 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


7 


One day resembled another in its monotonous 
regularity. Happily, Gisella possessed a nature 
which could enliven, sweeten and beautify every- 
thing round about her. She was capable of loving, 
and of being loved. 

After the death of her parents and when she be- 
came a member of the Gamier family, she con- 
ceived an unusually strong affection for the young- 
est son, Charles. 

This childish love had grown with her years, for 
it had been tenderly fostered, and while it helped 
to brighten the loneliness of her convent life, it in- 
creased the pain of their separation. 

From time to time Charles came to see her in the 
convent parlor. He wrote to her often, and in that 
way he filled her young heart with such joy and 
happiness that she was able to maintain her cheer- 
fulness amid the gloomy asceticism of the place. 

Singing was the only relaxation allowed at re- 
formed Port Royal. Carefully taught and admir- 
ably executed, it mingled with their work as well 
as with their prayers and gave to the divine office, 
sung in choir, a solemn and pleasing charm. Gi- 
sella, who possessed an innate love of music and a 
voice of rare, sweet beauty, took especial delight in 
singing, and oftentimes the gloomy old church of 
Port Royal echoed the sounds of angelic melodies. 

“ Is it not the voice of an angel in exile ? ” 


8 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


Mother Angelica would ask herself at times, while 
she listened in rapturous ecstacy to Gisella’s singing. 
Then it is easy to imagine how true was her grief 
and the community's sorrow at the news of Gisella's 
coming departure. 


CHAPTER III 


It was the senior pupils’ hour for needle work. 
Seated on rough wooden benches, about twenty 
young girls were sewing, knitting, and doing em- 
broidery. One was reading aloud the “ Lives of the 
Fathers of the Desert.” 

The room was gloomy. The walls, blackened by 
age, gave forth a damp and depressing atmosphere. 
But the pupil who was reading had a particularly 
agreeable voice, and read remarkably well. 

“ Mademoiselle Meliand ! ” called the nun who 
was superintending their work. 

The reader glanced up, closed her book and came 
to her teacher. Her step was slow, but her carriage 
was erect and graceful. 

In spite of her disordered hair and the extreme 
ugliness of her uniform, she was fair to look at, and 
all eyes were upon her as she crossed the room. 

“ Mother Abbess wishes to see you in her room,” 
said the nun, who had just received the message. 

The young girl left the room noiselessly, took 
off her grey linen apron and as she passed a lancet 
window, she glanced outside. A thick cold vapor 
hung about the branches of the leafless trees and 
made the place appear more dismal than usual. 

9 


IO 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


“ How depressing,” she murmured, as she turned 
away and wended her way through the silent corri- 
dors that led to the Mother Abbess' room. 

In answer to Gisella’s knock, a young novice, 
who acted as secretary to the abbess, opened the 
door. 

“ Come in,” she said, pleasantly, “ our Mother is 
waiting for you.” 

The room was large and cold. A figure of 
the Agonizing Saviour hung upon the south wall; 
at its base was an ivory skull, beautifully carved, but 
painfully true in size and shape. 

A discolored marble statue of Saint Bernard, a 
golden crozier, which rested against the abbatial 
chair, was all this poorly furnished room contained. 

Standing before a plain wooden table, the Abbess 
of Port Royal was busily engaged opening her let- 
ters. 

“ Come, child,” she said, when she had noticed 
Miss Meliand. 

Gisella came forward, and made her bow with 
inimitable grace and deep reverence. 

The Abbess acknowledged the courtesy by a 
smile. Turning to the little novice, she said gra- 
ciously : 

“ I shall see you later, dear sister,” and the nun 
retired. 

The privileged days in Gisella’s convent life were 
those on which she was allowed to see the Mother 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


ii 


Abbess. Youth feels the need to love and admire, 
and what the young girl experienced when in the 
presence of this illustrious nun was far more than a 
fleeting heart emotion. 

The Abbess of Port Royal was at that time thir- 
ty-five years of age. Of medium height, she was 
graceful and dignified and had a most queenly man- 
ner. Her face, worn by her great austerities it 
is true, and pitted by small-pox, had nothing attrac- 
tive about it, especially when her eyes were lowered. 
But in those blue eyes, shaded by red lashes, was 
revealed the interior beauty and strength of her 
soul, and once seen they could never be forgot- 
ten. 

She greeted the child lovingly. Seating herself, 
she made Gisella take a stool at her feet. Then 
going straight to the point, as was her wont, she 
said : 

“ My child, your guardian thinks it is time to 
take you home, and that was my reason for sending 
for you.” 

Gisella colored deeply, she lowered her eyes so 
that the Abbess might not see the delight that 
flooded their depths. 

“ Well/' asked Mother Angelica, “ what do you 
say? ” 

“If my guardian wishes it, I surely cannot ob- 
ject, ’’ answered Gisella politely, but with her eyes 
still lowered. 


12 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


The Abbess fixed a steadfast, penetrating look 
upon her. 

“ Allow me one question. Have you never felt 
any attraction for the religious life? ” she asked. 

For a moment, a smile played around Gisella’s 
mouth. Then lifting her beautiful brown eyes to 
meet the gaze of the Abbess she answered candidly : 

“ No, Mother, I never have.” 

A shadow darkened the Abbess’ face. 

“ I always hoped,” she said, in a lowered voice, 
“ that to the many gifts God has bestowed upon 
you, He would add that of a religious vocation. 
Often when listening to your singing, I have 
dreamed that dream. . . .” 

There was a moment’s silence, then the Abbess 
continued : 

“ You are going to pass from the strict, busy 
life you have lived till now to one of ease and pleas- 
ure. Will the change be irksome?” 

“ I think not, Mother.” 

“ You judge as a child. Pleasure has many pit- 
falls and has never been known to lead to anything 
heroic,” she said, exultingly. “ Poverty is far 
more profitable than riches, the saints all agree, and 
sweet are the uses of adversity.” 

And as if to impress this truth more forcibly 
upon her mind, the Abbess laid her hand upon Gi- 
sella’s head, and paused a few moments to study 
her. 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


A 3 


Even at the awkward age of early girlhood, she 
had often taken notice of this child whose voice pos- 
sessed the power of charming her to the forgetful- 
ness of fatigue and pain. Then, there was nothing 
remarkable about her appearance, unless it was the 
passionate beauty of her dreamy brown eyes. Time 
had flown, and this pale delicate child had developed 
a beauty of which she was still ignorant, but which 
filled the Abbess’ soul with fear. 

“ The dear child is destined to be the pet and 
idol of society,” she mused, and, stirred with deep 
compassion, she traced the sign of the cross upon 
Gisella’s fair brow. It was her most loving caress, 
the only one she ever allowed herself, consequently 
Gisella was delighted to receive it. 

“ I shall never forget you ; my prayers as well as 
my thoughts shall follow you always ; but be warned, 
do not expect too much from life,” she said, in sad, 
low tones. 

Gisella had the deepest reverence for the Abbess ; 
therefore, these very solemn words somewhat 
marred the joy of her home-going. 

“ You speak to me, Mother, as if sorrow and 
temptation were to be my only lot in life. I shall 
not have to face the world alone. So far Monsieur 
and Madame Gamier have shown me the deepest 
affection, and I cannot believe they intend to de- 
prive me of it now.” 

Seeing that Gisella had not quite grasped the true 


14 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


meaning of her words, the Abbess smiled and con- 
tinued : 

“ The Garniers are entitled to all your love — 
to all your gratitude, for they love you as their own 
child. It is not neglect or indifference I fear for 
you, child. What I dread for you is, that you will 
be loved too well, and therein will be your danger.” 

These words were spoken in sad impressive tones, 
for the Abbess had the convincing eloquence of an 
orator. 

Nevertheless, an involuntary smile hovered 
around the young girl’s mouth, and the light of a 
deep joy burned in her beautiful brown eyes. 

This joyful look was quickly hidden beneath her 
heavily-fringed eye-lids, but not before the Abbess 
had noticed that her words had produced no effect. 

She knew that this enthusiastic, gifted child pos- 
sessed in a preeminent degree the fatal power of 
loving and of suffering. It was cruel, she thought, 
to expose this beautiful soul to the sordid realities 
of life, and she would have loved to see her pro- 
tected therefrom, in the shadow of the cloister. 

“ You are sixteen years old, are you not? ” 

“ Sixteen and a half, Mother.” 

“ You are still exacting about fractions,” said the 
Abbess, smiling. “ Monsieur Gamier did not leave 
me in ignorance of his projects concerning you. 
He spoke highly of his son, and your union is most 
desirable. But, believe me, happiness is not of this 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


15 


world, and loving, sensitive souls find less of it than 
others. ‘ Love is oftentimes consumed by its own 
.vehemence/ ” 

“ I long to be happy/’ said Gisella, dreamily. 

“ Do you know what happiness would do for 
you?” asked the Abbess, seriously. “It has been 
said, and very truthfully, that happiness is like those 
intoxicating liquors which can only be taken in 
safety in small quantities, and then, well diluted. 
Let God do with you as He chooses ; should He send 
you trials and sufferings. . . 

“Trials! Mother,” repeated Gisella, in alarm. 

“ Yes, trials, the trials which elevate the soul and 
strengthen the heart by dispelling its illusions, that 
is, the illusions which blind it to the wickedness and 
shortness of life. These illusions, my child, are but 
a glamour which prevent us from seeing the thorns 
by the wayside, and the end of life. Happily, these 
illusions are dispelled by a clearer, more penetrating 
light at life’s close.” 

The sound of a sweet, clear bell reached them. 

“ The Vesper bell,” said the Abbess, rising. “ I 
want to hear your voice once again, so you will sing 
to-morrow at Mass.” 


CHAPTER IV 


f ‘ Gisella slept very little her last night at Port 
Royal. 

A night-lamp dimly lighted the dormitory, and 
round about her, companions were sleeping the 
sound' quiet sleep of youth. 

But Gisella lay awake, counting the hours as they 
rang out from the clock in the tower. 

“ Will daylight ever come?” she asked herself. 

It dawned at last, and later in the day Monsieur 
Gamier came to take her home. 

Gisella bade her teachers grateful and loving fare- 
wells, then she went up to her little alcove in the 
dormitory to change her dress. 

She was not vain, but her delight was keen when 
she threw off her ugly grey uniform, with its capes, 
to put on the handsome costume Madame Gamier 
had sent her. 

She cast a last fond look at the large dormi- 
tory, at her little bed; then she went down stairs 
slowly, examining everything attentively as if she 
wanted to carry away a lasting memory of these 
beloved spots which she would never see again. 

An atmosphere of sadness seemed tc envelope the 
old monastery, its long, dim cloisters, its corridors 
16 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


17 

and stone stair-cases, that had so often re-echoed 
the tread of foot-falls, both light and weary. 

She longed to pay a farewell visit to the church, 
which she knew was usually empty at that hour, and 
as she knelt down before the altar, a thousand 
loving memories of the past came crowding in upon 
her. 

“ My God ! how often has it been my privilege 
to sing Thy praises in this hallowed spot?” she 
sobbed. 

The small oak benches, the nuns 9 handsome 
stalls, the half-obliterated frescoes, the large black 
cross at the entrance to the burial vaults — every- 
thing assumed a new beauty under the spell of her 
departing glance, and as she stood within the choir, 
she was moved to tears. 

The Mother Abbess 9 office book had been left 
open upon the book-rest of her stall ; Gisella stooped 
and pressed her lips lingeringly to it. Then after 
a final prayer, she left the church, deep calm re- 
stored to her soul. 

Two lay-sisters, each holding a large key, were 
awaiting her at the convent door. 

“ It is very sad to see our dear Saint Csecelia 
leaving us,” said the senior in office, as she inserted 
the key in the lock. 

Gisella bade the kind sisters good-bye, and dry- 
ing their tears, they kissed her affectionately on both 
cheeks. 


i8 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


“ Good-bye, Gisella, good-bye/’ cried her com- 
panions, who had accompanied her, as far as the 
tower. 

Half smothered by their kisses and embraces, she 
took a tearful leave of them, after having promised 
to write often and return as soon as possible 


CHAPTER V 


Monsieur Garnier’s thoroughbreds were impa- 
tiently pawing the ground, in the Abbey courtyard. 

“ I am so delighted to take you away from here,” 
he said, as he helped Gisella into the carriage. 

It was dark when they reached Bois-Belle and 
Gisella could distinguish nothing about her; but a 
thousand confused, pleasant recollections of the place 
came back to her. 

Taking her by the hand, her guardian led her to 
the drawing-room, which was brilliantly lighted in 
honor of her home-coming. 

Seating her in one of the large arm-chairs, he 
dropped the caressing manner which he had used 
with her till then and suddenly assumed a serious 
tone. 

“ My dear child, you are heartily welcome to my 
home. I trust you will be very happy here with us. 
That you will never want to leave us, or long for 
any other home, is the dearest and sincerest wish of 
my heart.” 

Gisella was on the verge of tears, as she thanked 
him for his warm and loving welcome. 

“ Now let us have supper,” said Madame Gar- 
nier, as she deftly removed Gisella’s hat and jacket. 
19 


20 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


After supper they spent the remainder of the 
evening sitting around the grate-fire, chatting about 
many things, principally about Charles. 

Madame Gamier gave Gisella her son's letters to 
read, showed her his last portrait, and Gisella thor- 
oughly enjoyed the quiet pleasant evening. 

She was overjoyed to be back once again in 
Charles' boyhood home — the home to which he 
was so soon to return. 

Her happiness, however, was expressed less in 
words, than in the joy which radiated from her 
smiling lips. 

The mother was charmed with Gisella, whose 
heart was as an open book to her; when they were 
alone, she said to her, as she caressed her soft, black 
hair : 

“ Gisella child, do you not think Divine Provi- 
dence has arranged all things well?" 

The young girl smiled sweetly, and a fleeting 
blush colored her usually pale face. 

“ When I went for you after your mother's 
death," continued Madame Gamier, “ you were 
very unhappy and showed a grief far beyond your 
years. Do what I would for you, you remained 
inconsolable, and despite my tender care, you were 
fading away like a poor neglected flower. Your 
extreme apathy was causing me deep concern, when 
fortunately I had the happy thought of bringing 
Charles home from college." 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


21 


“ Yes, and do you remember what fearful weather 
it was when he arrived ? ” interrupted Gisella : “ I 

can still see his pretty fair hair all wet with rain, 
his handsome, boyish appearance, and especially 
the compassionate way in which he looked at me.” 

“ He was a very lovable dutiful child, ” went on 
Madame Gamier, “ and I recollect how attentively 
he listened to me while I told him that you would 
die if he did not succeed in making you love him — 
in making you play with him. That evening, if 
you remember, you both took supper together at a 
little table set before the fire. ,, 

“ Oh ! yes, I remember that delicious little sup- 
per distinctly. Really, I cannot account for it, but 
the deep gloom in which I had been buried ever 
since my dear mother’s death seemed dispelled for- 
ever from that night. I thought him very charm- 
ing. After supper we had a delightful chat, sitting 
before the fire. We soon became good friends, and 
I told him all my griefs and trials. He spoke to 
me about his First Communion, about heaven — 
and his words, child though he was, awakened a 
new love, a new enthusiasm in my life.” 

“ Even then you sang remarkably well, and to 
please him, you consented to sing. Delighted with 
his victory, he came and whispered in my ear, ‘ She 
loves me already, mother dear’; he loved you, too, 
and was heart-broken when he had to go back to 
college.” 


22 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


Gisella had listened to Madame Gamier, en- 
tranced. 

“ And when he was gone/’ she rejoined, “ I felt 
a strange void in my life. The house, the garden 
— all seemed empty and desolate.” 

Some tone in the young girl’s voice stirred 
Madame Gamier to her innermost soul. 

She realized that her son Charles was Gisella’s 
one and only love on earth, that her love for him 
mingled with all her thoughts in the strength and 
sweetness of her first memories. 

In spite of her ten-mile drive in the open air, 
Gisella was not sleepy, but Madame Gamier, sup- 
posing she must feel fatigued, led her to her room, 
which was hung in red silk, and exquisitely dainty. 

“ Even in that hideous uniform of yours, you are 
not too ugly, Gisella. Your plaited hair, in the style 
of Port Royal, gives you the appearance of a queen 
of the twelfth century. Wait until to-morrow, 
when I intend to be your lady’s-maid, and I shall 
transform you, as Cinderella’s fairy god-mother 
transformed her,” said Madame Gamier, laugh- 
ingly, as she kissed Gisella good-night. 

Left alone, Gisella could have wept with happi- 
ness. Being unable to sleep, she opened a window 
that looked out upon a balcony, but here, as in the 
deep valley of Port Royal, everything was shrouded 
in darkness. The heavens alone were visible. 


CHAPTER VI 


The days that followed were for Gisella one un- 
broken dream of happiness. 

She was at that extremely susceptible age, “ when 
love grows apace,” and “ when sentiments, not quite 
akin, mingle themselves with it and feed its flame.” 

She was in a seventh heaven of delight. Her 
freedom, the open air, the buoyancy of her own 
youth, everything elated her, everything enhanced 
the joy of her approaching happiness. 

“ I am happy, more than happy,” she wrote to 
one of her class-mates at Port Royal. “ It is so 
delightful to have an unbounded, unrestricted view, 
to see the sunshine. Accustomed to the foggy 
gloom of Port Royal, I had no idea of this glorious 
brightness. I am in a continual trance of delight, 
and if I were to yield to impulse, I would be always 
singing and my songs would be hymns of thanks- 
giving. . . . Now I wear such delightfully 

long dresses, . . . oftentimes I feel inclined to 

inflate my skirts, but fortunately no person knows 
anything about it. I am quite a grown-up young 
lady. The fact is incontestable. My aunt says that 
I have already exhausted one pleasure in life, — that 
of growing-up.” 


^3 


24 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


Charles' letters to her were not exactly what she 
would have wished them to be. Charming when 
first read, she found upon reading them a second 
time, a certain restraint in them, a deep sadness 
which made her uneasy; but these impressions were 
soon lost in a thousand others more intoxicating. 

Life was seething, scintillating in the heart of 
this young girl of sixteen summers. She had spells 
of childish frolicsome mirth, and would spend hours 
playing with Charles' dog, Numa. 

“ But when one can read sufficiently below the 
surface, one can see that she is of a serious turn of 
mind,” Monsieur Gamier would remark. 

And together they visited art galleries, palaces, 
and places of historic fame. 

A man of wealth and culture, he had converted 
his villa into a delightful retreat. In this he had 
been ably assisted by his wife, who was very skill- 
ful and experienced in the blending of colors, and 
arrangement of ornament so as to bring about artis- 
tic harmonious results. 

Gisella loved this charming villa, where every- 
thing promoted joy and happiness. 

She never grew tired of the garden, glorious now 
with the bloom and verdure of spring. 

Hour after hour was spent admiring the paint- 
ings, statuary and tapestries the villa contained. 

“No more gratings, no more funeral inscrip- 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


25 

tions,” she used to exclaim, as she roamed through 
the house. 

But there was a painting in Charles' bedroom, 
which inspired her with deep and serious thoughts. 

This painting, which was a masterpiece, repre- 
sented Ignatius Loyola looking towards heaven. 

“ Charles admires it immensely," said Madame 
Gamier, one day when she had surprised Gisella 
looking at it. “ He never wearies of it. He tells 
me the saint appears as if he were about to say 
once more, ‘ How vile the earth seems to me when 
I look up to heaven.' " 

The mother had no intention of making the young 
girl sad, but unfortunately her words had that 
effect. 

She noticed her mistake; so stroking the child's 
hair, she said, reassuringly. 

“ You must make the best of things now, dear. 
Don't you know that your future husband has 
strayed to us from heaven? If you doubt it, all 
you have to do is to look into his lovely eyes, 
wherein are reflected all the beautiful things of an 
invisible world. Be consoled; God is always the 
principal source of pure, true love. Would you 
want Charles to have a common, everyday nature? " 

Gisella wished no such thing. 

“ Would I love him as well, if I admired him 
less?" she asked herself. 


CHAPTER VII 


On a pleasant day in April of the same year 1625 
a man was seen to leave the office of the Minister 
of State, in Paris. 

He was of a noble appearance, and his bronzed 
complexion showed evidences of long exposure to 
the sun. His large ' black eyes gave a peculiar 
brightness to his half-burnt, anxious face. 

He was in the vigor of manhood, and wore the 
uniform of the Royal Navy. 

Absorbed in his own thoughts, he crossed the 
Minister’s ante-chamber without noticing anyone; 
but once he had reached the outer steps, he stopped 
and resting his hand upon the balustrade, raised 
his eyes to gaze ahead of him. 

Across that immense city of Paris, with its forest 
of spires, columns and domes, the royal white and 
gold flag of Old France was seen floating from the 
palace of the Louvre. 

Indifferent to all else, the sailor followed it with 
his eyes, and a look of manly love lighted his noble 
countenance. 

Anyone seeing him at that moment would be 
thoroughly convinced that he was a proud man, as 
26 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


27 


capable of patient persevering effort as he was of 
spontaneous heroism and invincible resistance. 

With a light quick step the officer ran down the 
stone stair-case. 

A carriage was in waiting. 

“ Drive to the villa Bois-Belle, at Auteuil,” he 
ordered, as he entered the carriage. 

A handsome young woman, who appeared decid- 
edly weary of waiting, was seated in the back of 
it. 

He greeted her with a smile which was suffi- 
ciently sweet and gracious to make her quite forget 
her past ennui . 

“ I was detained longer than I expected. How 
did you stand the delay, dear ? ” he asked her kindly. 

The young woman drew her cloak closer around 
her, and answered lightly, 

“ Please do not try to humiliate me ; you already 
know that there are limits to my patience.” 

“ Then, my dear wife,” he replied, “ never try 
to make a Minister take an interest in a work that 
is for the nation’s benefit.” 

These words were uttered in tones of ill-concealed 
sadness ; drawing his cloak about him he seated him- 
self beside her. 

The horses started off at full speed. A moment 
later, the young woman said to her husband, as she 
looked lovingly at him : 


28 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


“ It is a great pity you smile so seldom ; your 
smile is so fascinating/' 

“ Really," he said, smiling again. 

“ Yes, it is like a sun-burst in a lowering sky, as 
your friends the Hurons would say." 

“ You are wrong to employ metaphor," he re- 
plied quickly. “ Every civilized man understands 
flattery sufficiently well without its aid. Besides, 
a person is excusable in not smiling too often when 
he has dealings with the fur traders here, and the 
Iroquois out in Canada ; particularly when he 
meets only with indifference from those in power," 
he added, a few moments later, with deep bitterness 
in his voice. 

He let his head drop upon his breast and remained 
buried in thought. 

His wife laid her hand caressingly upon his 
shoulder; and raising herself the better to reach 
his ear, she whispered in soft, consoling tones, “ De- 
spite the one and despite the other, you will have 
your New France." 

Her manner and tone, so full of conviction, com- 
municated itself to the sailor, and beaming a look 
of gratitude on the frail, dainty creature, who thus 
answered for the future, he took her hand and lov- 
ingly pressed it to his heart. 

“ I, too, am confident of the future," he said, with 
strong but suppressed emotion ; “ yes, I am con- 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


29 

fklent, but believe me, I am crushed by trials and 
disgust.” 

“ I should love to assume them all,” she replied, 
“ and to bear on my shoulders all you have to suffer 
from the baseness and folly of others.” 

“ I should be very sorry for you, my dear ; even 
as it is, I often pity you; for like other women 
you must love a life of ease and pleasure.” 

“ The greatest pleasure in life,” she interrupted, 
hurriedly, “ is to admire what we love. If you 
doubt this, it is that you have made a deeper study 
of forests and high seas, than of woman's heart.” 

“ My dear child,” he said, more pleased than he 
cared to admit, “ you must not speak to your old 
husband in this way. Do you know I often wish 
I had nothing to do but to love you? ” 

“ These moments would be fleeting, and return 
seldom,” she answered with a smile. “ You have 
too much heroic and adventurous blood in your 
veins to remain long happy at your fireside.” 

“ My fireside ! If you only knew how • I love 
it — when you are there. Do you remember our 
pleasant winter evenings at the Habitation and at 
Fort St. Louis?” 

“ I' remember every moment spent with you, 
dear.” 

“ Come, you are flattering me horribly to-day. 
But I will forgive you, for it was so delightful to 


30 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


have had you in that vast solitude; to find you 
waiting for me in the evening before the blazing logs 
upon the hearth.” 

“ And then, to speak to me continually of New 
France,” she said, a shade of banter in her voice. 

He paid heed only to her last words, “ New 
France.” 

“ New France! It seems to me like a dream, an 
empty dream, as many have already told me with 
contempt. But the future will make of this empty 
dream a magnificent reality. God wishes it, and as 
you were saying a little while ago, despite the one, 
and despite the other, there will be a New France. 
Yes, and I will implant on that Canadian soil the 
old time honor, the old time faith, and so deeply 
that to eradicate those germs of heroism, it will 
be necessary to overthrow and destroy all.” 

These words were spoken with incomparable 
spirit, and throwing himself back in the carriage he 
remained silent. But it was evident his thoughts 
were no longer sad ones. Hope in the future had 
already banished every obstacle, and this time his 
wife did not disturb his reverie. 

For some time the carriage had followed the high- 
road, then it turned into a long winding avenue 
bordered on each side by full-grown trees. 

At the end of the avenue, between the newly 
budding trees, a pretty villa of Italian architecture, 
its roof gay with flowers and palms, was to be seen. 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


3i 


“ Here we are at Bois-Belle,” his wife remarked. 

Rousing himself from his reverie, the sailor 
looked about him. The villa, basking in the sun- 
light and surrounded by flowers and foliage, pre- 
sented a charming, peaceful aspect. 

“ Oh ! the charm of rest,” he murmured, as he 
sprang from the carriage and helped his wife to 
alight. 

A moment later Monsieur and Madame de Cham- 
plain were announced. 


3 


CHAPTER VIII 


Madame Gamier was sitting alone with Gisella. 

On hearing her visitors announced, she arose 
quickly and went forward to meet them, eager joy 
in her face. 

“ At last ! ” she said, as she held out both hands 
in welcome. “ Do you know we had almost given 
up expecting you ? ” 

“ Madame,” answered Monsieur de Champlain 
graciously, “ once a person has enjoyed your kind 
hospitality, he invariably returns a second time, even 
though he be domiciled in remotest Barbary.” 

Inwardly agitated, Gisella stood beside her tapes- 
try-frame. 

Madame Gamier introduced her, with pardonable 
pride, to her friends. 

So recently a school-girl, Gisella was quite flat- 
tered by the chivalrous respect with which the illus- 
trious sailor greeted her, and was greatly surprised, 
too, at the extreme youth of his wife. 

The usual formalities over, Madame de Cham- 
plain looked around admiringly. , 

“How delightful it is here! Do you know, I 
should love to spend the remainder of my life here 
with you.” 


32 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


33 


This was the opinion of many others; for the 
drawing-room in which Madame Gamier usually 
sat deserved this praise. 

Furnished with admirable taste, the room was 
lighted by long narrow-arched windows that opened 
into the garden. The rich-toned, heavy curtains 
were drawn aside to admit the bright light and 
agreeable warmth of an April day. Through the 
windows, aglow with the rays of the evening sun, 
could be seen an emerald lawn profusely dotted 
with violets and early primroses in full bloom, 
while the strong branches of the fine old trees 
were clothing themselves in dainty feathery foliage. 

The view was a charming one, and Champlain 
remarked that it must be far more so when the 
garden had reached the full beauty of bloom. 

“ Even then, I shall hesitate to ask you to walk 
there,” said Madame Gamier. 

“ And you will do well,” returned Madame de 
Champlain. “ The man who has drunk the waters 
of unknown rivers — who has trodden the leaves 
accumulated during centuries! . . .” 

“ Come, come, you want to make a poem of my 
life,” broke in Champlain. 

“ Do not be alarmed,” replied Madame Gamier, 
“ I will not allow that. You are a savage pure 
and simple, and as such you prefer forests to flower 
gardens.” 

“ Madame,” answered the great explorer, “ the 


34 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


forests of Canada are real gardens, gardens of in- 
comparable beauty.” 

“ Where one runs the risk of being scalped, de- 
voured or torn to pieces,” interjected the hostess. 

“ Certainly, one runs these risks to a certain 
extent, but Madame, in those immense gardens cul- 
tivated by the hand of God, there is so much to 
admire that one forgets all about danger.” 

“ What has Madame de Champlain to say about 
the matter,” asked Madame Gamier, laughing. 

“ I rarely went into the forests,” answered the 
young woman. “ Sometimes when the weather was 
pleasant and when my husband could accompany 
me, I went through part of the forest to Mass at 
the church of the Recollet Fathers, which is about 
a mile and a half from the Fort. But, if I did 
not penetrate very deeply into the woods, I con- 
templated them often and sufficiently near to be 
able to assure you that the slightest breath of wind 
evokes many harmonies and perfumes from that sea 
of foliage.” 

“According to the belief of the Indians,” said 
Champlain, “ the murmurings and the perfumes of 
the forests are nothing less than the sighs and the 
breath of the Manitou.” 

“And, according to Monsieur de Champlain,” 
continued his wife, “ when one has once heard the 
grand, weird music of the forests one no longer 
cares for any other.” 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


35 


Gisella smiled upon hearing those words; she 
cast a veiled cautious look at her harp that stood 
in a corner enveloped in its green silk cover. 

Champlain, who had already heard of the young 
girl’s great musical talent, remarked the glance and 
the smile. 

“ I notice that silent protest,” he said, laughing, 
“ but really you must be convinced that all is poetry 
and melody in the forests of Canada.” 

“ And, I can assure you,” continued Madame de 
Champlain, “ that it is a lovely sight to see the 
smoke ascending from the Habitation and Fort St. 
Louis.” 

Gisella longed to see that wreathing smoke. In 
imagination she had already pictured that beautiful, 
ideal land. She was silent, but she gazed on 
Champlain as one who had brought, even into the 
drawing-room, something of the poetry of the wil- 
derness. 

“ You are just home from the convent? ” inquired 
Champlain, addressing Gisella. 

“ Yes, from Port Royal,” answered the young 

girl. 

" Port Royal,” repeated Champlain, “ that is 
the name we gave our first settlement in Aca- 
dia.” 

“ Have you abandoned France altogether?” 
asked the young girl, in her melodious voice ; “ do 
you intend to live in Canada forever ? ” 


36 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


The sailor smiled, and a flash of deep love lighted 
his dark eyes. 

“ What I want,” he said, in his vibrating tones, 
“is to found a New France. I have made a very 
humble beginning, it is true, but all great works 
have had very small beginnings.” 

“ That is very true,” exclaimed Madame Gar- 
nier, after a few moments’ reflection. 

“ Nothing could be truer,” he said, gaily. 

He rose and crossed the room to look more closely 
at two portraits that had attracted his attention. 

These portraits, which hung on both sides of the 
mantel, represented two handsome young men of 
very striking resemblance. They both possessed 
the same noble bearing, the same happy counte- 
nance, the same grave serenity — one wore the 
habit of St. Francis, while the other was clothed in 
the robe of Mount Carmel. 

“ Are these your sons ? ” inquired Champlain. 

“ Yes, my sons — the two sons whom God has 
claimed from me.” 

Madame Gamier turned her eyes towards the 
handsome lads who appeared to return her look with 
love. 

“ But your youngest and only remaining son will 
soon be home, will he not ? ” inquired Champlain. 

“Yes, he is already on his way, — after a long 
visit in Italy,” answered Madame Gamier, her face 
beaming with joy. 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


37 


Bending over a bowl of roses, which she feigned 
to be arranging, Gisella tried to hide the blushes 
that mantled her cheeks. 

Monsieur Gamier came in just then, very much 
excited and delighted. 

He kissed the hand which Madame de Champlain 
extended to him in greeting, and warmly embraced 
his friend. 

“ We had a day to ourselves,” said Champlain, 
“ so we came to spend it with you, as we had 
promised.” 

The magistrate was eloquent in his thanks. Ap- 
parently he was very happy. 

“ It is really deplorable,” said Madame Gamier, 
“ that our friends live betwixt heaven and the 
ocean, — or in remotest Barbary, as you said a lit- 
tle while ago, Monsieur de Champlain.” 

The Lord paramount of New France speaks very 
badly of his Kingdom,” said Monsieur Gamier, as 
he seated himself beside his friend. “ Are you 
still sighing after your beloved city of Quebec ?” 
he asked. 

“ I should like a description of that city,” mur- 
mured Gisella, who had but a vague idea of the 
French settlements in Canada. 

“ It is to me, I trust, that favor is addressed,” 
said Champlain, with his most captivating smile. 

Greatly flattered that the explorer anticipated her 
curiosity, Gisella would have wished to say some- 


38 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


thing graceful in reply, but the words refused to 
come. 

Seeing her embarrassment, the sailor began with 
admirable gravity, 

“ Quebec is the capital of New France, a lovely 
country where the forests entice you forever on- 
wards. In that city, even at a short distance from 
the dwellings, the sky can scarcely be seen on ac- 
count of the dense foliage of the trees. " 

“ Among the edifices, may be noticed/' — 
prompted Monsieur Gamier. 

“ Truly," said Champlain, laughing, “ a great 
deal is to be seen in the forest clearings. There is 
the Fort St. Louis, the home of Louis Hebert, first 
farmer of New France. The Habitation, your 
humble servant's first dwelling in those parts." 

“ The Habitation ! " repeated Madame Gamier, 
“ what a charming name. It savors of the wilder- 
ness." 

“ Madame, that name possesses for me a strange, 
sweet charm, which always thrills my heart. In the 
wilderness, home has far greater attractions than 
elsewhere. The Habitation, like the Fort, is sur- 
rounded by trenches and fortified with cannon. It 
is built on the banks of the St. Lawrence, the most 
beautiful river in the world, without exception." 

“ And what about your church ? " asked the Mag- 
istrate. 

“ We have two churches now. The parish church 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


39 


is very near the Habitation. Begun in the early 
days of June, 1615, it was opened for Divine serv- 
ice the 25th of the same month. Father Dol- 
beau was the architect. It is built of rough boards : 
— but rustic as it is, I find it beautiful, particularly 
when it is festooned with garlands of green, as it 
was the day Father Dolbeau said Mass in it for 
the first time. Surrounding the chapel is a lot a 
hundred and twenty feet in length by fifty or sixty 
in width. 

“ Quebec has but one street as yet. This street, 
which is quite steep, runs from the Habitation to 
the Fort and is called ‘ The Mountain Way/ 
When we pass along it on very windy days, the 
rustling of the leaves on both sides is like the surg- 
ing of the sea. 

“ The population of Quebec, which consists al- 
most entirely of men, numbers sixty.” 

“ But they are a happy population, and do not 
try to hide their delight when their Governor re- 
turns to them,” added Madame de Champlain. 

“ Especially when the Governor is accompanied 
by his charming wife,” observed Monsieur Gamier, 
cavalierly. 

“ Frenchmen are the same the world over,” an- 
swered Champlain. “ But their great joy was 
pleasant to see. One would think that the Colony 
had no longer anything to fear and that I could 
put all the Iroquois to flight. We had a solemn ‘ Te 


40 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


Deum,’ sung to the accompaniment of cannon.” 

“ Followed by a grand levee with speeches and 
bead necklaces,” added Monsieur Gamier. 

“ No, sir; there were no speeches that day,” said 
Madame de Champlain. “ The Habitation, which 
had been neglected during its master’s absence, was 
in great need of repair; so we were obliged to re- 
turn to our ship which was anchored in deep water. 
Monsieur de Champlain was deeply distressed at 
not having a place wherein he could lodge me, — 
but I was delighted with my trip on land, and I can 
assure you I had every reason to be.” 

“ Kindly give us some idea of that visit? ” asked 
the Magistrate. 

“ It would be difficult for me to do so. I 
should be obliged to show you the St. Lawrence 
and Quebec by one of nature’s grandest sunsets. 
On the bank of the river, through that golden haze, 
the Habitation and the little chapel were visible, 
while all around and on every side was forest, the 
primeval forest, vast and profound. I can assure 
you I was delighted with my domain.” 

“ Madame is surely humoring the foibles of Que- 
bec’s founder just a little,” said Madame Gamier 
looking at Champlain. 

“ Honestly, no, Madame. By summer’s sun or 
winter’s snows Quebec is lovely to see. I have 
travelled extensively, but nowhere have I seen any- 
thing more beautiful.” 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


4i 


“ The night of our arrival/’ continued Madame 
de Champlain. “We promenaded the deck of our 
ship for a long time. That hour remains an undy- 
ing memory to me. Everything around us was so 
lovely, so peaceful, so weird. It was delightful, I 
assure you, to listen to my husband and dream of 
the future of New France.” 

“New France!” repeated Madame Gamier, “I 
admit that the name is strangely pleasing to me. 
Was it you, Monsieur de Champlain, who gave that 
name to Canada ? ” 

“No, Madame; it was Henry IV who named 
Canada, New France.” 

“ Well, then,” said Madame Gamier, looking to- 
wards the brave explorer, “ I should like to know 
what you anticipate for this poor little New France, 
which is as dear to you as your heart’s blood.” 

“ What I anticipate for it ! ” exclaimed Cham- 
plain. “ Why, everything that constitutes our life, 
our glory, and our charm. I would have Canada 
be to America what France has been to Europe. 
I would wish the French of America to be of all 
nations the noblest, the most generous and the most 
brotherly. I want them to possess the old honor 
and the old Faith.” 

Champlain spoke with such energy and eloquence, 
that, carried away by his enthusiasm, they one and 
all cried out simultaneously, “ Long live New 
France! Long live the French of Canada!” 


42 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


Champlain smiled: but at the same moment his 
eyes were filled with tears. 

They were all silent for a few moments. 

“ Have you heard,” asked Champlain, address- 
ing his host, “ that the Jesuit Fathers have accepted 
the Recollets’ invitation, and are coming to help 
those good missionaries to evangelize Canada?” 

“ Yes,” answered Monsieur Gamier, “ I even 
think the Fathers are chosen, and are only waiting 
a favorable opportunity to set out.” 

Just then the folding doors were thrown open, 
revealing the supper table, with its snow-white ta- 
ble-cloth, its old silver and cut-glass sparkling in 
the light of the rose-colored candles. 

At the end of supper which was long and gay, 
the host had his choicest old wine brought from the 
cellar. When the glasses were filled he raised his, 
saying : 

“ Here’s to New France! May it prosper and 
grow powerful, — and may it preserve forever in 
the New World, the Faith, the honor and language 
of Old France.” 

Champlain bowed with princely grace in ac- 
knowledgment of the toast, and Gisella had the 
great happiness of clinking glasses with the heroic 
sailor. 


CHAPTER IX 


At an early hour the next morning Monsieur 
Gamier went for a walk in his garden. 

Monsieur de Champlain, looking hale and hearty, 
had already preceded him there. 

They greeted one another by a hearty handshake : 
then they sought a long, narrow walk bordered, in 
the old French fashion, by holly bushes. 

There existed between these two men a lifelong 
friendship. It had suffered somewhat from their 
long separation; but its fragrance had remained in 
their hearts, and it was always with the sincerest 
pleasure that they met again. 

They walked in silence for a few moments. 

It was a mild April day, the sky was slightly 
veiled by light-scudding clouds. The trees were 
just bursting forth into leaf, and the woods had 
retained some of the pink tinge of early spring. 

Primroses, violets and anemones glowed in the 
verdant grass, sparkling with morning dew. The 
warbling of birds, and sounds vague and mysterious, 
rose upon the stillness of early day. 

“ I love the early morning,” said Champlain 
breaking the silence. “ I love the springtime, I love 
43 


44 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


everything that speaks of life, of hope, and of the 
future.” 

The Magistrate smiled, and seeing that his friend 
was in a talkative mood, he ran his arm through his 
and prepared to listen to him. He had the deepest 
admiration for the Founder of Quebec, and re- 
spected even the reveries of his resolute, powerful 
mind. He knew that in these dreams Champlain 
was preparing miracles of future activity and patriot- 
ism. 

He had followed Champlain in his noble and 
difficult career. 

In the Council Chamber, he had seen him fight, 
single-handed, the cause of civilization for France 
against the greed of the traders and the stupidity of 
the Ministers who blindly supported the sordid in- 
terests of these individuals. 

When the Companies that had been formed to as- 
sist in the colonization of Canada failed in their 
engagements, owing to their one thought of traffic 
with the Indians, Monsieur Gamier came nobly for- 
ward and materially helped the Colony. He was 
deeply interested in that New France which was 
as yet little more than a day-dream. 

Champlain knew this well ; consequently he spoke 
to him without restraint of his hopes and fears. 
Like all practical men, he saw clearly the difficulties 
of his undertaking. 

These difficulties, both formidable and petty, 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


45 


shrouded the future in a night of gloom. The 
sailor knew this better than anyone else, but when 
he spoke of his New France, his enthusiastic words 
seemed to turn the gloom of the future into a vista 
of great brightness. 

Gamier felt his friend’s enthusiasm in a special 
way that morning, and could not refrain from say- 
ing to him encouragingly, 

“ You will see that in the long run you will con- 
trol men and circumstances.” 

Champlain sighed deeply. 

“ And even if you do not succeed,” continued 
Monsieur Gamier, “even if France should not sur- 
vive you, it is a glorious thing to have spent one’s 
life in such a noble and difficult undertaking.” 

“ You are right,” replied Champlain. “ I have 
often thought that, and should I be obliged to 
abandon the undertaking, I shall not regret my 
work. But, I will succeed, I must succeed. I am 
fairly well on in years, it is true, and I have spent 
much of my strength in almost sterile efforts. But 
the thought that one is working for God and France 
is inspiring.” 

“ Why are you not better understood, better 
helped in your struggle ! ” exclaimed Monsieur Gar- 
nier, sadly. 

“ Do not pity me, dear friend. The reward is in 
proportion to the labor, and my City of Quebec, as 
you call it, has already afforded many pleasures. 


46 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


When, as I emerge from the forest, I see in the 
clearings, the Habitation, the Fort, the chapel, I 
am thrilled by a strange happiness, and on looking 
at the smoke ascending from our homes I have often 
dreamed the same dream.” 

“ And what was your dream ? ” 

“ I saw barbarism supplanted by the Cross, the 
forests replaced by corn-fields, France dominating 
those vast regions and bringing us the joys of bap- 
tism and the teachings of eternal life. Then, rest- 
ing beneath the shade of the trees, my gun within 
reach, I planned the City of Quebec and its des- 
tinies. ,, 

"And may its destinies be all that you antici- 
pate for it,” said the Magistrate, deeply affected. 

“ Then I will let you imagine whether the City 
of Quebec will play an insignificant role in the New 
World or not.” 

“ And why shouldn’t it play a very important 
role ? Haven’t you by dint of hard labor succeeded 
in kindling the first spark of civilization there?” 

“ Yes, and I trust that the spark will become a 
beacon of resplendent light. I want Quebec to be 
the most Catholic city of America.” 

“ I also wish all that, dear friend. Moreover, I 
trust that Canada, but especially Quebec, will keep 
an undying memory of you.” 

“ It suffices that Canada preserve forever the 
language, the honor, the Faith of France, as you 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


47 


so eloquently said last evening. I wish for nothing 
more, and each time I enter my little chapel in Que- 
bec I ask this favor from Almighty God. This 
chapel is very poor, very small, but, — (smile at me 
if you will), I can pray more fervently there than 
in Notre Dame.” 

“ That is easily explained. It is the first temple 
of the True God in that idolatrous world, and then 
you yourself caused it to be built.” 

“ Truly I have much to be thankful for. It was 
in that humble chapel that we inaugurated Catholic 
worship on the banks of the St. Lawrence. All 
my colonists were present, and we received Holy 
Communion. After Mass the ‘ Te Deum ’ was sung 
to the accompaniment of artillery.” 

“When was that?” 

“It was on the 25th of June, 1615, a glorious 
day when even the forests seemed to rejoice. I 
was happy, unspeakably happy.” 

“ ‘ Joy is always in proportion to the pain/ as 
you remarked a little while ago.” 

“ A great truth, indeed, so beware of ever pity- 
ing me again. There are joys which are a source 
of inexhaustible strength for the soul.” 

“ I believe so ; but one must make superhuman 
efforts to attain them.” 

“ Not so, my friend. God gives them when He 
deems the time favorable. As for me — if I may 
quote myself — all the joys of my life grew dim 


4 8 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


when I heard the Angelus ring for the first time in 
New France. That voice of prayer rose so deeply 
impressive in that wild savage country! Listening 
to it I was thrilled to my innermost soul; and 
% throwing myself on my knees, I wept in the excess 
of joy. Oh! what a moment of delight that was, 
dear friend. I felt that the Blessed Virgin was 
showering blessings upon the Colony; that, yearn- 
ing for that poor idolatrous people, she would finally 
lead them to the knowledge and worship of the true 
God. When I rose, I thought all the voices of 
that vast solitude were chanting, ‘ Hail, Queen, — 
Hail, Virgin, — Hail Mother.’ ” 

Realizing that he had been speaking with un- 
wonted feeling, Champlain became suddenly silent. 
A few moments later he continued calmly: 

“ Therefore, I ordered the Angelus to be rung 
regularly at the usual hour, and I always feel deep 
gratitude and joy whenever I hear it.” 

“ My friend,” said the Magistrate, “ there are 
joys which count both for this world and for the 
next.” 

Champlain did not answer just then, but after 
having walked for a few moments in silence, he 
looked round and said : 

“ These country houses on the outskirts of large 
cities have incomparable charms. They remind 
me of gardens on the seashore.” 

“ I really think,” said Monsieur Gamier, “ that 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


49 

the suburbs of Paris are a little like the seashore. 
They make us thoughtful and dreamy/’ 

“ I believe I can dream a little everywhere,” an- 
swered Champlain, smiling. 

“ Yes of your New France. All your thoughts 
tend that way.” 

“ How can I help it ? I left the essential part of 
my soul there, as the Indians would say. Shall I 
admit it? Your beautiful garden is not half so 
pleasing to me as a little garden I own on the banks 
of the St. Lawrence.” 

“ What is there so exceptional about your little 
garden? ” 

“ Nothing, it is simply a kitchen-garden. But 
Madame de Champlain had the happy thought of 
planting in it, unknown to me, a large quantity of 
fleur-de-lys. One fine day on my return from ex- 
ploration, I found them in full bloom on Canadian 
soil. The sight of them made me foolishly happy. 
It’s so strange, we remain so childlike in some 
ways.” 

“ It is very fortunate we do so far as our feel- 
ings are concerned. But be assured the old French 
vigor will sink deeply in that new soil, and make it 
produce unfading glory and beauty.” 

Champlain smiled, and his beautiful dreamy eyes 
seemed to be questioning the future. 

“ Are you quite decided not to take Madame de 
Champlain to Canada again? ” asked Gamier. 


So 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


“ Yes, irrevocably decided. There are too many 
hardships to endure, too many dangers to encoun- 
ter. God alone prevents the Indians from recog- 
nizing how much we are at their mercy.” 

“If you had foreseen that the Colony would re- 
main thus abandoned and on the verge of ruin, you 
would not have taken Madame de Champlain with 
you ? ” 

“ I had very few delusions about the Colony. 
Between ourselves, I took my wife to Canada, be- 
cause, in my absence, her family made her endure 
a thousand and one persecutions on account of her 
religion. She who is as pious as an angel, suffered 
cruelly in being thus hindered in the practice of it 
by her Calvinist friends. I have no further anxiety 
on that score now, for her mother has become a 
Catholic.” 

“ Madame de Champlain displayed great cour- 
age?” 

“ Admirable courage and a touching resignation 
through all her discomforts. She won the esteem 
and affection of Indians and French alike.” 

“ What does she think of your decision to leave 
her behind ? ” 

“ She never thinks of disputing my will, for she 
has retained a childlike submission to me. Re- 
member she was not quite twelve when I married 
her.” 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


5i 

“ I remember it distinctly. Beneath her bridal 
veil she looked like a first communicant." 

“ Poor child ! her life is a sad one. She would 
like to retire to a convent." 

“ Why don't you take her with you ? It is so 
hard to live without love and companionship al- 
ways." 

“ I know that well. It is a great joy to have 
her with me out there. Her childish delight upon 
my return in the evenings was consoling in the ex- 
treme. You can not imagine how ingenious she 
was in procuring for me in Quebec the comforts and 
necessities of civilized life; nor could I quite under- 
stand how she managed to surround me with such 
comforts and to make my home so charmingly 
attractive." 

“ Perhaps her presence alone sufficed. Nothing 
transforms a home like the presence of a charming 
woman." 

“ I have never had much leisure to inquire into 
that matter," answered Champlain, gaily. “ But 
my home in Quebec appeared to me the loveliest one 
in all the world." 

“ Without flattery, it is a poetic home, with ex- 
ceptional surroundings," said Gamier. 

Champlain was silent. A man of incomparable 
energy, a man of action and of organization, he had 
nevertheless in his soul that deep vein of poetry, 


52 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


and reverie which is acquired by a life in the forest, 
and a thousand delightful and perplexing emotions 
awoke within him. 

He saw himself back again in the home which he 
had built himself, in the depths of the forests, gaz- 
ing at the cheerful blaze that rose from the hearth. 
While the wind sighed outside, and in the distance, 
France rejuvenated and smiling appeared upon the 
shores of the mighty St. Lawrence. “ And all that 
was so restful,” he murmured, as if in answer to his 
own thoughts. 

“ Do take her with you,” said the Magistrate. 

“ Listen,” said Champlain smiling, “ at Fort St. 
Louis, we often lack the necessities of life. For a 
delicate woman, mushrooms and wild roots are very 
poor nourishment, indeed.” 

“ It is quite decided, then : you wish to return to 
Canada alone, to live and die there.” 

“ Who knows where I shall die ? The needs of 
the Colony will often recall me to France. But, “ he 
added, with unlooked for emotion, “ if I had my 
choice, I should like to die at my post of honor. It 
is at Quebec, on the soil of Canada, that I wish to 
sleep my long last sleep.” 

Then, suddenly changing his tone he asked: 

“ You are daily expecting your son? ” 

“ Yes, I expect him from day to day now.” 

“ Is he travelling alone in Italy?” 

“ No, he has a companion, Monsieur de Brunand, 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


S3 


an officer on leave of absence, an agreeable, manly 
fellow, a few years older than Charles and accus- 
tomed to travel. ,, 

“ Madame Gamier told me that her son causes 
her some little anxiety occasionally/' said Cham- 
plain, “ she would like to see him — less perfect." 

“ That seems a little unreasonable, does it not ? 
But I am of the same opinion, although I do not say 
anything about it. I candidly acknowledge that I 
would be delighted to discover some fault in him." 

“ Be assured that he has some, only you cannot 
see them." 

“ I would believe you, if his mother and myself 
were the only ones who thought him perfect, but all 
who know him think likewise." 

“ The last time I saw him, he was only a little 
boy, but most interesting. Are you afraid that he 
wants to become a religious like his two brothers ? " 

“ He will never get my consent," answered the 
Magistrate, with great vehemence. 

“ Probably he may never ask you," said Cham- 
plain, quite calmly. 

“ What do you mean? " asked Monsieur Gamier, 
a peculiar ring in his voice. 

“ Why it is quite plain. Before the end of the 
month the boy will be head over ears in love." 

Monsieur Gamier smiled. “ His mother asserts 
a hundred times a day that he will not be able to 
help himself. Providence, she says, has arranged 


'54 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


all that, and did not place the child in our midst 
without some good motive.” 

“ How old is your son now ? ” 

“ Just nineteen.” 

“ Has he seen Mademoiselle Meliand very of- 
ten?” 

“ For nine years she was at Port Royal. We 
took him to see her as often as we were allowed. 
He was very fond of her, and the two children con- 
sidered themselves destined for one another. It 
was quite amusing to listen to their fine plans for 
the future and to see their deep mutual love. But 
since his two brothers have become religious, 
Charles only speaks of doing God’s will, and other 
matters relating to heaven. I see plainly that he is 
unhappy, and undecided about something.” 

“ He will not hesitate long. Only think of it : at 
twenty to find your affianced at your fireside and to 
live in such close companionship.” 

“ Her voice charms him,” continued Monsieur 
Gamier, visibly comforted. “ He says nothing is 
more ravishing than the human voice, especially 
when it is a beautiful one.” 

“ That is certainly true, and I recognized that 
fact last evening when I heard Mademoiselle Meli- 
and sing. Madame de Champlain is quite enthusi- 
astic about her voice, and says the child’s singing 
carries her to heaven.” 

“ And what do you say? ” asked the Magistrate. 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


55 


“ I, Oh ! I am too leaden-winged for such flights. 
But the young girl possesses admirable gifts. 
Added to her remarkable innocence, she has an ex- 
pression which indicates great beauty and strength 
of character. In giving her to you, God has be- 
stowed upon you a very charming daughter.” 

“ I often assure myself that, with deep gratitude. 
But Charles is such a strange young fellow, he is so 
little like other young men.” 

“ But he is neither deaf nor blind.” 

“ No, thank God,” answered the father, laughing. 

“ Then his fate is irrevocably fixed, — unless his 
young cousin will have none of him.” 

“ That is not what disquiets me. From her ear- 
liest youth, Gisella has loved him with an extraor- 
dinary love, and this love has grown with her years. 
But Charles’ sole thought now, is to advance in per- 
fection ; which does not hinder him from being very 
charming. His expression denotes strength, and 
beauty of soul, too.” 

The two men stood still, and raised their hats. 
Madame de Champlain and Gisella had entered the 
garden. 


CHAPTER X 


A few hours later a plain hired carriage stopped 
at Bois-Belle. 

A .man wrapped in a long black cloak stepped out. 
Opening the garden gate, he walked to the front 
door of the villa. He was very tall and powerfully 
built. Beneath his cloak which he had thrown 
across his arm, the black habit, crucifix and beads of 
Loyola’s sons were visible. 

“ Is Monsier de Champlain still here ? ” he 
asked the little white-capped maid who had opened 
the door to him. 

“ Yes, sir, he is,” she answered promptly. 

“ Then will you kindly tell him that Father Bre- 
beuf presents his compliments and wishes to speak 
to hirr, for a few minutes.” 

Walking ahead of the Jesuit, the little maid ush- 
ered him into a room which had every appearance 
of being a studio. She offered him an arm-chair, 
and then withdrew to deliver his message. 

The religious sat down without even casting a 
glance about him. And yet the room contained 
many works of art, beautiful statuary and fine 
paintings. But he did not appear to see any of 

56 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


57 


them, for resting his head on the top of his high- 
backed chair, he gazed through the open window. 
It was easy to see, however, that his thoughts were 
very far from that lovely garden and from the pleas- 
ant restful landscape of Auteuil. 

After a few moments’ delay, a sun-burnt hand 
lifted the heavy portiere, and Champlain entered. 
Then the Founder of New France and the most il- 
lustrious of his missionaries met for the first time. 

Rapid glances were exchanged between them, 
after they had greeted one another with the courte- 
ous respect which was the etiquette of France at 
that time. 

“ I came to tell you,” said the Jesuit, promptly, 
“ that Fathers Lallement, Masse and I, are the ones 
chosen to go out to Canada. My Superior has sent 
me to announce the news to you and to tell you that 
we leave for Dieppe tomorrow, where we will take 
the ship, which sails for Canada at the first favor- 
able wind.” 

Champlain expressed his great satisfaction and 
courteously invited Father Brebeuf to be seated 
again. 

“ I shall soon follow you, Father,” he said, as he 
took a chair opposite him. And all the time they 
were chatting about their approaching departure 
and the crossing of the ocean, such a hardship at that 
time, Champlain was attentively studying Father 


58 THE MASTER MOTIVE 

Brebeuf to see what manner of man the Society of 
Jesus had chosen to send out to convert the terrible 
savages of Canada. 

The pale serene brow showed patient strength of 
character. Upon his manly face, furrowed by pre- 
mature wrinkles, the sufferings of chastened nature 
had left their unmistakable traces; but the visible 
happiness of interior peace had softened and beauti- 
fied them. One felt that this Jesuit no longer ex- 
perienced any difficulty in the mastery of self. His 
dark hair, very scant about his brow and well 
sprinkled with grey, showed he had passed the me- 
ridian of life. The thought of sacrifice and the mere 
mention of his near departure made his clear mild 
eyes beam with delight. 

Champlain, who was quick to recognize a grand, 
heroic nature, soon thought to himself — 

“ Those Jesuits possess great discernment. This 
man is constituted for silent, bloody conflict.’ ’ 

A good judge of physical strength, Champlain 
could not help admiring Father Brebeuf s magnifi- 
cent figure. 

“ Built like an athlete,” he thought as he looked 
at his broad, powerful shoulders and his large mus- 
cular throat, cleft by the black stock of his Order. 

He laughingly complimented the Jesuit upon his 
great strength, assuring him that it would prove 
most useful to him out in the wilds of Canada and 
win him the admiration of the Indians as well. 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


59 


“ I have no fault to find with my constitution/’ 
answered Father Brebeuf, with a smile, “ But I 
thought the red-skins thoroughly despised white 
people/’ 

“ They think themselves infinitely superior to us,” 
answered Champlain, “ that cannot be denied. 
They scorn civilization and hold the faith in horror. 
They only value our firearms, and our brandy, — 
fire-water as they call it.” 

“ They are very degraded, very cruel, are they 
not?” 

“ It is impossible to exaggerate their cruelty. I 
have been an eye witness of it,” said Champlain, 
with a most expressive gesture. “ Pray to God, 
Father, that you may never see them at their infer- 
nal practices.” 

“ I have so many other things to ask God for,” 
returned Brebeuf, in a rapt manner. 

“ Have you any idea of what is awaiting you out 
there? Do you realize that you are going to face a 
life which is far worse than death?” asked Cham- 
plain, as he looked the Jesuit straight in the eyes. 

The missionary bowed his head in silence. 

“ To live among the Indians,” Champlain con- 
tinued, “ is to live in constant suffering and 
want. One must die to all needs of soul and 
body.” 

“ So much the better, sir, I am quite willing that 
all that is human in me should die — if only I am 


6o 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


allowed to do the work which God has allotted to 
me.” 

“ In Satan’s kingdom, God’s delegates run great 
risks. They hold fast to their superstitions, those 
passionate, barbaric Indians, — and as God’s emis- 
sary, you may in all probability meet a most hor- 
rible death.” 

A heavenly light shone in the Jesuit’s eyes. 

“ That is in accordance with the general rule,” he 
answered cheerfully, “ the shedding of blood is nec- 
essary for the sowing and fructification of the seed 
of true life. But will Almighty God deign to ac- 
cept mine? I offer Him, from henceforth, and 
with a glad heart — both my blood and my life.” 

The priest uttered these words quite simply and 
with a sincerity that deeply impressed Champlain. 
The intrepid sailor knew human nature under every 
aspect, but, nevertheless, the Jesuit’s eager anticipa- 
tion of suffering thrilled him with surprise. But 
we rarely tell the Saints the deep admiration they 
inspire. Still, wishing to say something ; he asked : 

“ Father Brebeuf, have you any knowledge of the 
ways and customs of the Indians?” 

“ A very superficial one, I fear.” 

“ The Indians of Canada have customs quite pe- 
culiar to themselves: for instance, it is considered 
quite rude to address a person by his own name ; in 
speaking to an Indian, you must call him either 
Uncle, Brother, Cousin or Nephew, according to his 


THE MASTER MOTIVE »6i 

age and position, and you must not recall to them 
the memory of their dead. To tell an Indian that 
his father or mother is dead, is to offer him a mortal 
insult, and the Indians are fearfully proud and vin- 
dictive. You will be obliged to observe closely and 
study a good deal.” 

“ Ah! if I could only make myself understood by 
those poor Indians ! But their different dialects are 
very difficult to. learn, I am told.” 

“ Yes, that is true; and so far as I can judge, 
they are very rich in expression, and very regular in 
construction; but one must learn them without the 
aid of books and, as it were, almost without a 
master. Once I was obliged in spite of myself to 
spend a whole winter with the Hurons, and while 
hunting with my guide and host, Chief Darontal, 
I learned a little of the language. But I am still 
obliged to have recourse to my interpreters.” 

“ Well,” answered the missionary, “ while learn- 
ing to speak Huron, I can at least baptize the little 
dying children. To save a single one of those little 
souls, I would gladly cross the ocean; and go and 
live with the Indians.” 

“ The salvation of one soul is surely worth more 
than the conquest of an empire,” murmured Cham- 
plain. 

“ You have already loudly proclaimed that truth, 
sir; and if I remember well, you added: — ‘Kings 
should only think of conquering idolatrous nations 


6 2 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


in the hope of bringing them to the knowledge of the 
true God/ ” 

“ It is not necessary to be a great theologian to 
know that much.” 

“ No,” answered Father Brebeuf, smilingly, “ it 
is sufficient to have faith, and to have the eyes of our 
heart enlightened, as St. Paul says. Do you 
think, Monsieur de Champlain, that the people of 
Canada will be hard to convert ? ” 

“ It is an open question whether we shall ever 
succeed or not. The Recollet Fathers have labored 
very hard, but trying to convert the Indians is, liter- 
ally, like building on the quick-sands or on rolling 
stones.” 

“ They are very intelligent, notwithstanding?” 

“ Yes, in certain things. They are very clever 
liars, they can steal with their feet as well as with 
their hands. Quite a few of them are even eloquent. 
But they are so barbarous that they have no lan- 
guage wherewith to express their idea of God. To 
speak to them of God, we must make use of para- 
phrase: ‘The One who made everything/ ‘The 
great Captain of men/ etc. To this barbarity add 
pride and revenge, which is the most deeply-rooted 
vice of their nature, and tell me if there is any 
great hope of converting them.” 

Father Brebeuf listened to all this with unchang- 
able serenity. 

“ When we shall have suffered sufficiently out 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 63 

there/' he said calmly, “ a Church will spring up and 
flourish." 

“ And we shall have a Christian kingdom — a 
French Kingdom — out there. Oh, Father, this 
has been my life-long dream." 

“ Say your mission, sir, God rarely allows a 
man of your excellent worth, to waste his life in an 
idle dream." 

“ Then you really believe in the possibility of a 
New France," exclaimed Champlain. “ Say that 
you do, Father." 

Father Brebeuf looked at him with deep but well- 
controlled emotion. 

“ The future is beyond our knowledge," the mis- 
sionary said very quietly. “ It is hidden in the de- 
signs of God. But the patriotism which makes 
great men, can also work wonders. I firmly be- 
lieve there will be a New France, to Champlain's 
everlasting honor and glory." 

Champlain bowed low, and his handsome sun- 
burnt face was wreathed in smiles. 

“ God wills it," he said, “ it is plainly evident. 
If Roberval, and La Roche failed so miserably, it is 
that New France has a high destiny and could not 
emanate from a band of criminals. As for Chauvin 
— a Protestant should not be the Founder of New 
France." 

“ Can I do anything for you in Quebec, Mon- 
sieur de Champlain?" 

5 


6 4 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


“ Certainly you can. You can pray for me. 
‘ Unless the Lord build the house, they labor in vain 
that build it/ ” 

Brebeuf rose to take his leave. 

“ Father/’ Champlain said, “ my host and my 
wife will never forgive me, if I allow you to go 
away from here without having seen them, — even 
if it be but for a moment.” 

Passing through several rooms, Champlain led 
the Jesuit to where Monsieur and Madame Gamier, 
Madame de Champlain and Gisella sat chatting 
together. 

After introducing Father Brebeuf, Champlain 
turned towards Gisella and said : 

“ Mademoiselle Meliand, I crave a farewell song 
for this Knight of Christ, who is going out to Can- 
ada with the hope of being roasted inch by inch, one 
of these days.” 

“ No, no,” said the missionary, as he returned 
the young girl’s glance. “ Don’t be alarmed, such 
a glorious fate will never be mine. The most I may 
expect is to die of want and rheumatism among my 
Indians. But in the meanwhile, I shall be delighted 
to hear that farewell song, which Monsieur de 
Champlain has so kindly suggested.” 

Not quite aware of what she was doing, Gisella 
rose and went over to her harp. 

Father Brebeuf’s appearance as well as Cham- 
plain’s words had deeply affected her. Her heart 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 65 

was beating wildly and while softly fingering her 
instrument, she said to herself : 

“ My God! inspire me what to sing for this Jes- 
uit, who may, in all probability one day be a 
martyr/’ 

And, in spite of all that is hard and incompre- 
hensible to human nature in a missionary’s life, it 
was a tender joyful song that rose to her lips : “ Jesu 
dulcis memoria , Jesus, the very thought of Thee 
with sweetness fills my breast.” 

Gisella sang the entire sweet hymn — so often 
sung at Port Royal — and her deep emotion only 
added a new charm to her truly angelic voice. 

Brebeuf listened motionless, with closed eyes and 
in that deep recollection which is the heavenly 
strength and rest of the soul. And as he listened, 
it seemed to him that this ravishing voice was but 
the echo of the love that was singing in himself. 

Song is the sublimest expression of life and hap- 
piness. It reveals the soul to itself and completely 
ravishes it. Those who were present realized this 
truth and never forgot the joy of that hour. Long 
after Gisella had ceased singing, they remained 
silent. 

“ Thank you, Mademoiselle Meliand,” said Cham- 
plain, as he hastily brushed away his tears. “ I shall 
carry the memory of your sweet hymn with me to 
the wilds of Canada.” 

Father Brebeuf rose enraptured. Jesu dulcis 


66 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


memorial What a beautiful death-song for the 
missionary tied to the stake of torture. And in a 
transport of joy he repeated: 

Nec lingua valet dicere 
Nec littera exprimere , 

Expertus potest credere 
Quid sit Jesum diligere. 

The Jesuit was magnificent to see just then. 
They felt that the love of God possessed him com- 
pletely; that sufferings, no matter of what nature 
they might be, far from smothering this heavenly 
fire, would only serve to make it burn the brighter. 

Standing beside her harp, her heart aglow with 
enthusiasm, Gisella gazed at him without perceiving 
that her face was bathed in tears. 

The missionary came and stood beside her. 

“ The love of God surpasses every other delight, 
every other desire. Do not forget it,” he said ; “ you 
who have sung of this love, as the angels themselves 
do.” He traced the sign of the cross on her fair 
brow — then looking at those who surrounded him, 
Father Brebeuf joined his hands and humbly re- 
peated what St. Paul said to the faithful of Rome, 
when he announced his departure for Spain : 

“ My dearly beloved, I implore you by Our Sa- 
viour Jesus Christ and by the charity of the Holy 
Ghost, to help me by the prayers which you will of- 
fer to God in my behalf, as I am to announce the 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 67 

Gospel to those who have never heard it preached 
as yet.” 

Champlain and Monsieur Gamier accompanied 
Father Brebeuf to his carriage. 

Gisella remained standing upon the steps, and 
followed the priest with a wistful look until he had 
reached the end of the avenue. All she had heard 
of the Indians' diabolic cruelty was quite vivid 
in her mind ; and through her tear-blinded eyes, she 
saw the poor missionary dragged to the “ Bloody 
Hut,” torn, roasted and devoured amid brutal gibes 
and howls of delight. 


CHAPTER XI 


“ After your long day’s journey you must be 
tired and wish to get to bed; so I shall run off. 
But just one word more before I go. Hasn’t Gi- 
sella grown very beautiful ? ” 

“ She certainly has, Mother dear,” Charles an- 
swered, quietly, “ and I think she possesses that true 
beauty which bespeaks the dominance of the soul.” 

“ She’s not the only one who possesses that kind 
of beauty,” his mother lovingly whispered in his 
ear. 

“ And you are not the only mother who wilfully 
blinds herself regarding her son,” he answered with 
a smile. 

“ I blind myself. Come let us see if I do,” she 
said gaily, as she drew him to her. 

She gazed at him for a long time with inexpress- 
ible tenderness — and then ended her scrutiny by 
kissing him repeatedly. “ No, I am not blinded,” 
she said, “ and you are a dear, saucy boy to say so.” 

Inwardly she thought that even the angels who 
had appeared on earth, in human form, were not 
any fairer than her son, and be it said, the fond 
68 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


69 


mother scarcely exaggerated. Charles Gamier 
possessed that noble and brilliant beauty which 
we usually associate with the messengers of God. 
Only to look at him one was convinced that his 
soul was inundated with fervent love and heav- 
enly peace. His brow appeared undimmed as 
yet by any shadow, and his smiling eyes of tender 
blue, awed you at the same time that they enthralled 
you. 

But, this evening, those beautiful eyes were heavy 
with sleep. His mother noticed it, and rose to take 
her departure. 

“ Until tomorrow, dear boy,” she said as she 
kissed him good-night. 

He accompanied her to the door and was about to 
retire for the night when he heard his name called 
in a low voice from the adjoining room. 

“ What is it, Reginald ? ” he asked, as he crossed 
the room and lifted the heavy portiere. 

“ I wish to speak to you, if you are not too tired,” 
said a young man who stood beside a table which 
bore a lamp and a few books. 

Charles Gamier stifled a yawn and, without com- 
ment, passed into his travelling companion's room. 

Reginald de Brunand invited him to take a seat 
on the sofa which was beyond the shadow of the 
lamp. 

Of dark complexion, slight and elegant in figure, 


70 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


Reginald de Brunand appeared about twenty-five or 
thirty years of age and wore the uniform of a 
lieutenant in the Cuirassiers. 

He seemed troubled and remained standing, open- 
ing and closing the books which he took haphazard 
from the table. 

“ Well/’ said Charles, after a few moments' si J 
lence, “ if you have nothing to say to me, would it 
not be better for us to get to bed? It's past mid- 
night, and we have travelled quite a long distance 
today.” 

“ What does it matter, now that we have reached 
home?” answered the lieutenant. “If I were in 
your place, I should have no more inclination for 
sleep than a Saint who had just entered heaven.” 

“ Are you quite sure of that ? ” Charles asked, 
as he rubbed his eyes. “You don't look too wide 
awake yourself, and you appear decidedly out of 
sorts. What's the matter old fellow?” he added, 
more kindly. 

“ There's nothing the matter with me, except that 
my veins are running liquid fire, while the marrow 
is frozen in my bones.” 

“ What we call fever, in everyday language, 
Reginald ? ” 

“ No, I have no fever,” answered the officer, as he 
seated himself beside his friend, “ but I think you 
most fortunate. What a charming life you have 
before you ! ” 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


7i 

“ I have nothing to complain of,” Charles an- 
swered, a little surprised at his friend’s tone. 

“ By my faith ! I don’t see what you possibly 
could complain of here . . . unless your little 

cousin should take a dislike to you. But her recep- 
tion tonight goes far to prove her fondness for you. 
What do you think of, your little sister Gisella, as 
you call her ? ” 

“ Much taller and a great deal prettier; quite 
charming in fact. And you, lieutenant, what do 
you think of her? ” 

“ Mademoiselle Meliand is very nice,” Reginald 
answered coldly. 

“Very nice!” repeated Charles, laughing. 
“ Why, Reginald, you must be very tired, quite ex- 
hausted in fact, to speak of Mademoiselle Meliand 
like that.” 

“ You are right,” interrupted Reginald, laughing 
to hide his embarrassment : “ to speak of Mademoi- 
selle Meliand as being nice, is to express myself 
very inadequately indeed.” 

He rose abruptly and, crossing over to the win- 
dow, drew aside the heavy curtain. 

The sky was mild and clear. 

u It is a lovely night, Gamier,” he said ; “ let us 
go for a walk in the garden.” 

A little surprised at his friend’s request, Charles 
opened the window and both young men passed out 
into the garden. The moon shone brightly, and be- 


7 2 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


yond the shadow cast by the giant trees, the flowers 
of the lawn were distinctly visible. The perfume of 
the lilac and lily of the valley floated upon the air, 
while ever and anon deep indefinable sounds broke 
the stillness of the night. 

“How beautiful! How deliciously peaceful 
everything is,” Charles murmured, as he looked 
around with deep content. 

A light glimmering through the feathery foliage 
upon the balcony attracted his attention. 

“ That’s Gisella’s room,” he remarked, “ the child 
is still awake, I see.” 

The lieutenant remained silently gazing at the 
light, just as if a star of unusual brilliancy had 
suddenly sprung up before him. 

“ Come,” said Charles, as he linked his arm 
through his friend’s, “ tell me what is the matter? ” 

“ You’ll be surprised, no doubt,” answered Regi- 
nald, rousing himself from his reverie — “ I have 
decided to leave you tomorrow.” 

“ You’re going away tomorrow,” repeated 
Charles like one who could scarcely believe his ears. 

“ I must — it’s imperative that I should,” an- 
swered the lieutenant, as he led Charles to a walk 
beyond the lawn, “ and I depend on you to explain 
my sudden departure.” 

“ What does this all mean, Reginald ? ” asked 
Charles, greatly astonished. “As a rule you’re 
not swayed by caprice.” 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 73 

“ It’s not caprice but downright common sense 
that urges me to go.” 

“ Convince me of that if you can.” 

“ Charles,” Reginald said, with sudden emotion, 
“ you’re the most agreeable fellow I know and, in 
spite of your youth, my dearest and most trusted 
friend.” 

“ But all this does not explain why you are so 
anxious to get away from here,” Charles inter- 
rupted abruptly. “ You haven’t been called away, 
and you know you promised to remain at Bois-Belle 
for quite a long time.” 

“ When I made that promise I did not know the 
risks I was running. It is the instinct of self- 
preservation.” 

“ Do speak like a sensible person, Reginald.” 

“ I am speaking seriously,” the young lieutenant 
answered, while a momentary lightning flash burned 
in his dark brown eyes. “ I am afraid to trust my- 
self too often in Mademoiselle Meliand’s company, 
so I’m running away before I fall madly in love with 
her.” 

“ But, why run away ; why not remain here and 
see if you can win her love, since she has made such 
a deep impression upon you.” 

“ Why, why ? ” repeated the lieutenant, “ because 
it would be a loss of time; she already loves you.” 

“ Certainly she loves me, and I love her, too, 
very dearly, but we are like brother and sister.” 


74 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


“ A sister who is very distantly related to you, — 
and who will soon become your wife. ,, 

“ You are making a great many assertions to- 
night, Reginald.” 

The lieutenant remained silent, so Charles con- 
tinued : “ Mademoiselle Meliand deserves a husband 
a thousand times better than I am, — I am fully 
convinced of that; but notwithstanding her many 
charms and accomplishments, I have higher aspira- 
tions. You know very well I do not wish to con- 
tract any earthly union.” 

“ My sincere congratulations, young man,” said 
Reginald, with mock gravity. 

“ I accept them and I assure you that you'll see 
me a religious one of these days.” 

“ But your father has other plans in view for 
you. He informed me of his determination of 
marrying you to his ward; and, by the way, it 
seemed to me that he was giving me a warning, 
rather than honoring me with his confidence.” 

“ I shall never marry,” said Charles, with quiet 
decision. 

“ When you have struggled a little against love, 
you'll speak otherwise.” 

Charles listened to his friend in undisturbed calm. 
Suddenly he asked : 

“ Do you remember the last evening we spent in 
the Coliseum and all we said concerning the hap- 
piness of those who renounce everything for God? ” 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


75 


“ Certainly, I remember it. You mean all you 
said then; but you can't help yourself; you are 
destined to enjoy the pleasures of earth; so you 
might as well resign yourself to your fate. All 
your prayers will prove unavailing. You can't run 
away from her, therefore you must love her. No 
human heart is proof against such beauty." 

“ When the heart is empty of all other love per- 
haps," murmured Charles, as he raised his eyes 
towards heaven. “ But when the heart is full to 
overflowing — " 

“ The fire of love penetrates everywhere, as you'll 
soon learn. But let us go in now," Reginald said, 
quite dejectedly. 

Alone in his room once more, Charles, instead of 
going to bed, seated himself at his table, and bury- 
ing his face in his hands, remained there for quite 
a long time. Then rising, he cast himself upon his 
knees before an ivory crucifix which hung on the 
wall, and raising his eyes and hands towards the 
sacred image, he said : 

“ Sweet Jesus, grant that I may not prove faith- 
less to Thee ! but that I may do Thy holy will." 


CHAPTER XII 


Lieutenant de Brunand had just taken leave of 
his friends. 

His carriage had already disappeared upon the 
high road, yet Charles remained motionless and 
deeply absorbed where he had bidden him good-bye. 

Gisella, who had been watching Charles, now 
joined him. 

“ Your friend’s departure has grieved you. 
You’re very fond of Monsieur de Brunand are you 
not ? ” she asked, in that sweet tone which gave 
such impressive power to her voice. 

“ Poor Reginald ! ” murmured Charles, involun- 
tarily. 

“ Why, one would almost think he was going to 
his death,” Gisella remarked, a flitting smile parting 
her lips. 

Charles gave her a steady questioning look, but 
made no comment. 

“ Are you going indoors, or are you coming to 
walk with me in the garden? ” she asked. 

Still standing upon the door-step, Monsieur and 
Madame Gamier, looked proudly after them. 

“ Youth and Spring are undoubtedly two beauti- 
ful things,” remarked the mother, after a few mo- 
76 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


77 

merits’ silence. “ Look and tell me if it is not de- 
lightful to see those children together again.” 

“ Charles has greatly benefited by his trip,” she 
continued, for her husband remained silent and 
thoughtful. “ He has certainly thrown off his 
school-boy appearance and assumed the ease and 
grace of a man of the world. His figure has at- 
tained its greatest elegance, if not its full strength.” 

“ Imagine,” said the Magistrate, in a low tense 
voice, “ he has already dared to repeat his foolish 
request to be allowed to enter the Jesuit Order. He 
no longer says as formerly : ‘ I hesitate ; I am in 
doubt, and should like to make a trial ; ’ but he says, 
and most emphatically, 4 1 am quite decided now.’ ” 

Madame Garnier’s eyes filled with tears. “ And 
yet he appeared so happy when he came back to us.” 

“ I mastered my anger as best I could. I told 
him we would speak of this matter again at the end 
of six months. I strictly forbade him in the mean- 
time, to grieve you or Gisella with his foolish 
resolutions. Never fear, before the six months 
have expired he will have regained his senses. 
Even now, I think he fears for his decision. What 
a lovely girl Gisella is, and how much her happiness 
enhances her beauty. She is truly bewitching. 
Charles can make whatever plans he likes, but I 
don’t think his resolution to become a religious can 
possibly hold out against her attractiveness.” 

And while the parents thoroughly discussed the 


78 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


subject that so deeply interested them, Charles and 
Gisella walked up and down one of the long narrow 
garden paths. 

Only a few short words were uttered between 
them. 

Gisella thought that Charles felt his friend’s de- 
parture altogether too keenly. His behavior to- 
wards her surprised her, made her feel ill at ease, 
and, instead of being able, as she had anticipated, to 
chat unreservedly with him, she found she had 
nothing to say. But she was happy nevertheless. 

But, as the days wore on, this intense joy was 
often mingled with sadness. 

Undeniably it was delightful to have Charles 
there ; she couldn’t grow accustomed to the pleasure 
of seeing him, of listening to his voice ; his presence 
added an infinite charm to her daily life and yet at 
times he seemed farther away from her than ever 
before. 

He no longer made her conscious of that delight- 
ful, invisible bond which had always existed be- 
tween them till then. 

“ One would almost think he was living in a su- 
perior world,” Gisella would often remark to Ma- 
dame Gamier, “ and he inspires me with a nameless 
fear — a strange unconquerable respect.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


Gisella was not completely happy. The thought 
that Charles' meditated entering religion like his 
brothers haunted her continually. His father 
would never consent to his joining the Jesuit Order, 
she knew perfectly well. Madame Gamier assured 
her several times a day that such a thing could not 
— would not, happen. 

“ Do you think/’ she would ask, “ that Provi- 
dence has been planning your happiness in vain? 
Charles is certainly not a commonplace person. The 
heroism of sacrifice attracts him. But believe me, 
he will be obliged to resign himself to the simple 
Christian life.” 

Gisella would allow herself to be thus convinced, 
and sweet intoxicating dreams would soon banish 
her deep sadness. But a trip which they took to- 
gether to Havre gave her an insight into Charles’ 
indomitable firmness and strength of will, and sad- 
ness once more took possession of her soul. 
Whether it was the wish to grasp things as they 
really were, or a secret strength which made her 
look her destiny in the face, she wrote a personal ac- 
count of this trip. 


6 


79 


8o 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


It ran thus: 

“ We went to Paris, to say good-bye to Monsieur 
de Champlain. The thought that I had never seen 
the ocean, stirred his sailor's heart. 

, “ ‘ My dear Gamier/ he said, bluntly, ‘ I want 

Mademoiselle Meliand to see the ocean. I won’t 
take any refusal. You can all accompany me to my 
ship, and then bring Madame de Champlain back 
to Paris/ 

“ My uncle dislikes travelling very much ; he loves 
his own way and his own beautiful home. He con- 
sented, however, to accompany us, and the next day 
he, Charles and I followed Monsieur de Champlain. 

“ If I am not greatly mistaken, Charles did not 
care to come with us, and it needed a formal com- 
mand from his father to make him do so. This 
necessarily saddened me ; but his presence soon pro- 
duced its usual effect on me. All my fears and sor- 
rows are centered and yet lose themselves in him; 
consequently, every moment of the trip was de- 
liciously happy. Five days after leaving Paris we 
reached Havre. Monsieur and Madame de Cham- 
plain had already arrived and were waiting dinner 
for us. 

“ During dinner, Monsieur de Champlain told us 
of the best place on the cliff from which we could 
get the loveliest view of the ocean. My uncle im- 
mediately ordered a carriage, but when it arrived he 
declared he was too tired to come with us. ‘ You’ll 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


81 


excuse me, darling, won't you ? ’ he said, as he drew 
his dressing-gown from the depths of his bag. 
‘ Charles is quite capable of taking care of you, in 
any case.' 

“ Of late Charles avoids being left alone with me ; 
consequently, I am ill at ease with him. 

“ Monsieur de Champlain looked at us both in a 
strange, inquiring way. He wasn't the least bit fa- 
tigued, he said, and would most willingly accompany 
us, only he had too much to do. 

“ Charles and I started off alone. The weather 
was extremely fine, and the roads were quite passa- 
ble. I found an indescribable charm in all I saw, 
and why, I could not say, for on the side towards 
the ocean dense woods shut out the view, while all 
along the roadside only a few scattered cottages 
were to be seen. Our coachman had been ordered 
to drive fast, and, as he had very good horses, we 
went at full speed. 

“ On leaving our carriage, we took the moor im- 
mediately joining the high road. Here and there, 
the ground was covered by huge boulders ; the grass 
was short and coarse, the dwarfed trees, miserable 
and crabbed, while the landscape bore that charac- 
teristic sadness which the ocean casts upon all that 
surrounds it. 

“ We walked quickly and in deep silence. The 
high rocks that bordered that part of the coast, still 
hid the sea entirely from us, but its pungent odor 


82 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


filled our nostrils, while the solemn rhythmic surg- 
ing of its waves reached our ears, and that voice of 
the ocean, unseen as yet, filled me with overpowering 
awe and nameless trouble; an extraordinary fear 
made my heart beat hard and fast. We climbed the 
cliff by a delightfully cool and shady path. The 
stones, highly polished by the frequent ram, and the 
resinous needles of the pine trees, made the path 
quite slippery. But we safely reached the summit, 
which was crowned by stunted trees, grotesquely dis- 
torted by the winds, and, raising my eyes, I beheld 
the ocean, the beautiful but terrible ocean. So long 
as I live, I shall never forget its splendid, majestic 
beauty. There are, there must be some impressions 
than can never be effaced. 

“ We went as near the edge of the cliff, as safety 
would allow, and lingered there for a long time in 
unbroken silence. 

“ ‘ Ravishing sight ! Mighty torrent of life and 
death/ I exclaimed. Three hundred feet below 
us the sea was running its highest. The foam- 
crested waves were beating in fury against the rock 
which seemed shaken by them to its very foundation, 
while the rumbling of thunder was beneath our feet. 
And yet, it was not a storm, for the sea was glori- 
ously placid. 

“ I felt a delicious stupor, which was quickly 
followed by wonderful exhilaration. It seemed to 
me that all this indescribable magnificence, this 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


33 


seething life was within me; and that the sea was 
but the image of my own heart. Charles gazed 
and listened in unconscious ecstasy. 

“ But one cannot contemplate the sea very long, 
without feeling overcome by the profound sadness 
which rises from its depths, and I noticed that 
Charles’ face grew quite sorrowful. 

“ Suddenly a wave from the west came abreast 
of, and forcibly struck, the long regular tide from 
the south. The shock was appalling. The waters 
leaped so high that the sky was darkened by them, 
and a light iridescent foam reached us where we 
stood. 

“ I was terrified and enraptured at one and the 
same moment, and feeling the earth tremble beneath 
my feet, I seized Charles by the arm. 

“ What was taking place in his soul during that 
hour, never to be forgotten by me, during that mo- 
ment of unequalled surprise and delight, I shall 
never be able to tell, but as his eyes met mine, a 
deathly pallor overspread his face. The sky, the 
ocean, everything disappeared before me. All I 
could see was the fearful change which had come 
over him. 

“ ‘ Are you ill ? ’ I asked, greatly alarmed. But 
he remained silent and motionless. Burning 
blushes were quickly followed by ghastly paleness, 
and a peculiar happiness lighted up his agitated 
features. Under the spell of this extreme excite- 


8 4 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


ment he no longer bore any resemblance to an 
angel; I knew he loved me, that his resolutions 
were being cast to the four winds of heaven, and 
that he was about to tell me so. 

“ ‘ Gisella, may God forgive me/ he began in 
a scarcely audible voice, and his eyes concentrated 
upon me were full of agonized trouble ; ‘ I — ’ 

“ But at that very moment, a lark, that was tak- 
ing its flight from the rock, touched Charles’ face 
lightly with its wing and soared heavenward in 
delicious song. The words died upon his lips; he 
grew alarmingly pale, and followed the lark’s soar- 
ing with a close and solemn attention. The bird 
winged a swift and lofty flight. The clouds had 
already hidden it from our sight and still our ears 
were flooded with the deliciousness of its song. 
‘ It is bearing the love of our lives to heaven/ 
I said to him, without fully realizing what words I 
was uttering. 

“ He withdrew his gaze, left my side abruptly, 
and hiding his face upon the rock which overlooked 
the sea, sobbed convulsively. Overcome by grief 
and surprise, I watched him weeping in the shade; 
then I sprang towards him, but by an imperative 
gesture of his hand, he kept me back. 

“ How long he remained there I cannot say. 
When he returned to me, his face still bore traces 
of his tears, but he had regained his usual calm 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 85 

and determination. Without giving any explana- 
tion, he said : 

“ ‘ Let us go — if agreeable to you. It is grow- 
ing dark, and it is quite time we were returning/ 

“ These few commonplace words, uttered in his 
ordinary sweet, firm voice, sounded in my ears like 
my death-knell. The black pall of death seemed to 
have fallen upon me forever more; and, all uncon- 
scious of the danger, in a frenzy of despair, I rushed 
to the very edge of the cliff. 

“ ‘ Be careful, Gisella/ Charles cried in alarm, and 
seizing me by both my hands he held me fast. 

“ This recalled me to myself, but being unable to 
control my grief, I burst into tears. He took no 
notice of them. 

“ By a great effort, I regained my composure. 
Then without looking at me, he remarked : c The 
sight of an abyss very often produces vertigo; so 
let us be off, I beseech you/ 

“ ‘ Yes/ I answered, and I took him by the hand 
to descend the cliff, as I had done when we were 
climbing it. 

“ ‘ The air is growing quite cold, allow me/ he 
said, as he gently withdrew his hand, and bringing 
forward both ends of my scarf, he wound it twice 
about my neck. We returned in silence by the 
same cool, shady path by which we had come. 
My youth had gone from me forever; all my en- 


86 THE MASTER MOTIVE 

chanting dreams lay in ruins in my lifeless heart. 
How willingly I would have wept, but I tried to 
appear calm, as Charles, always kind and solicitous, 
was walking beside me. 

“ God knows I had no wish to speak, but his 
silence oppressed me. I felt a positive need to hear 
his voice; so, while crossing the moorland, I re- 
marked : — 4 Charles, I continually have before my 
eyes those great conflicting waves. How beautiful 
yet terrifying was the encounter between those two 
irresistible forces/ 

44 4 There is but one irresistible force/ he an- 
swered, in a greatly altered voice. When we were 
seated in our carriage once more Charles threw 
himself back in his corner and remained perfectly 
silent. 

44 1 saw he was suffering, that he did not wish me 
to see his pain, therefore I did not dare to look at 
him. 

44 They waited supper until our return. The meal 
appeared interminable to me. The questions they 
asked us tortured me. Moreover, I was in a hurry 
to be alone. The lights, placed at both ends of the 
table, brought both Monsieur de Champlain and 
Charles’ faces into sharp view. 

44 The sailor was thoughtful, but appeared happy. 
There is nothing he loves better than his little col- 
ony ; and one is convinced, that it is with secret de- 
light that he sacrifices everything for it. 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


87 


“ Charles was very pale, very silent ; but never 
before had his face worn such a beautiful and ten- 
der expression. I longed to look into his heart 
which seemed to me to be bleeding still. 

“ We all retired very early. Monsieur de Cham- 
plain wished to start off on a pilgrimage to Our 
Lady of Grace the next morning, and we had all 
been asked to accompany him. 

“ I slept very little that night. Charles’ trouble 
and tears were always before my eyes, and so were 
those two great conflicting waves. I tried hard not 
to blind myself to the true state of things — to 
judge dispassionately — but it was all in vain. I 
could not help feeling supremely happy as I re- 
viewed the incidents of the day. I was sure that 
Charles loved me ; so I asked God to have pity upon 
me and spare him to me. 

“ Before sunrise, we were all up and ready to set 
off. Monsieur and Madame de Champlain wished 
— like true pilgrims — to go the whole way on 
foot, and they decided that Charles and I should do 
likewise. It was also decided that we should go 
by way of the beach; so all four of us started out 
with a little guide, who was to conduct us to the 
chapel by a cross-road. 

“ The pink blush of dawn crept slowly up and 
mingled with the azure of the sky. Hushed 
sounds and the sweet timid songs of the birds were 
heard in the quiet of early morning. But Charles 


88 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


appeared neither to hear, nor to see anything of all 
this. His face bore no trace of his awful anguish 
of the night before; it only showed great fatigue. 
He seemed deeply absorbed, or rather, plunged in 
one of those mysterious apathies, which are so fre- 
quent with him. When we reached the shore, the 
sun had risen, but a heavy fog still hung over the 
entire sea. In some places this fog was quite thin 
and was punctured by arrow-shafts of golden light. 
Everywhere it oscillated, rocked by the waves. 

“ I wanted to tarry and gaze leisurely, but they 
hurried me on, as we had still a good league to go 
by way of the beach. On leaving the bay, the shore 
was strewn with large fragments of rock, which 
made our progress very difficult. But I did not 
mind the extra exertion, as I was in the mood for a 
long walk. 

“ The wind had completely cleared the sea of fog. 
But the shore, still shrouded in light mist, stretched 
ahead of us in all its enchanting sadness. 

“ Here and there, brambles, shrubs and flowers 
hung down from the bare and rugged cliff, while 
the unceasing roar of the sea, the hoarse cry of 
the gulls and the plaintive note of the swallows, 
sounded continually in our ears. I cannot say what 
excitement, what emotion took possession of and 
overpowered me; but burning tears often filled my 
eyes and blinded me. Monsieur de Champlain 
halted to allow his wife to rest; so Charles and I, 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


89 


did likewise. Once, when we were all seated to- 
gether, watching the greenish billows that were 
frollicking in the sun, I asked him, and designedly 
of course, if the ocean was not the most beautiful 
image of the human heart. 

“ ‘ The most beautiful, as well as the truest/ he 
answered, coloring vividly. 

“ I begged him to develop his idea, and here are, 
according to him, the existing points of similarity : 
The ocean possesses immensity and depth and is 
forever on the ebb and flow. At one moment it 
carries on its waters the dross of the land; at an- 
other, its bosom reflects the beauty of the heavens, 
it soon becomes wearied with even the most charm- 
ing shores. Often when seeming to precipitate it- 
self in its entirety, it is impeded by a few grains of 
sand. These words made me sad. 

“ After a few moments’ silence he asked me 
calmly in what way the ocean differed from the hu- 
man heart. Being unable to tell him, he resumed : 

“ ‘ The ocean is never disturbed at its lowest 
depths. It is quickly calmed and so completely, 
that even the fiercest storm leaves no traces upon it. 
In this way/ he continued, in his low sweet voice, 
‘ it differs greatly from the purely human heart ; 
but strongly resembles the heart of the Christian/ 

“ He was standing, holding his hat in his hand, 
to prevent the wind from carrying it off. I thought 
him handsome, god-like even — but I also thought 


90 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


him cruel and hard ; and, I do not know what bitter 
echo repeated to me just then the words which 
Mother Angelica had spoken: 

“ ‘ You will be too fondly loved, which is a great 
misfortune/ 

“ The chapel of Our Lady of Grace, crowns the 
cliff. It is reached by an immense stairway, which 
in the full glare of the sun and facing the sea, leads 
us to the summit by three flights of steps, each 
flight a hundred feet high. 

“ This chapel, so dear to all the country round, 
is of very ancient date and is built entirely of rough 
stone. 

“ Thousands of swallows have made their nests 
in its buttresses. An arched niche over the main 
entrance contains a beautiful statue of the Blessed 
Virgin, given by Richard the Fearless, Duke of 
Normandy. 

“ A few of the ship’s crew had followed us on our 
pilgrimage, and Monsieur Gamier who had come in 
a carriage, was already in the chapel. 

“ I took my place beside him. As I knelt down, 
I felt my soul flooded by a deep sense of peace and 
hope. Mass soon began, and in that atmosphere of 
heavenly calm, a sacred poetry seemed to breathe 
from the ancient walls, from the ex votos and from 
the tapers which burned amid the flowers before 
Our Lady’s picture. ‘ Our Lady of Grace/ is 
painted between two angels, her eyes raised to 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


9i 


heaven, while her arms are extended towards earth. 
I never saw anything more artistically and beauti- 
fully portrayed. Grace and mercy seem to flow 
from her lovely transparent hands. 

“ Champlain, surrounded by his sailors, knelt be- 
fore the altar and prayed most fervently. Quite 
close to the group of sailors, Charles Gamier 
prayed, his face hidden between his hands. All I 
could see of him was his fair head resting against 
the altar-rail. 

“ The stained-glass windows allowed but a sub- 
dued light to enter. The sanctuary-lamp, sus- 
pended by its golden chains, swayed slightly. Ex- 
cept for the roar of the waves, as they broke at the 
foot of the cliff, no noise reached us from the out- 
side world. 

“ Everyone appeared to pray with all his heart, 
and here among those fervent suppliants, I confi- 
dently implored the protection of the Blessed Vir- 
gin and begged her to interest herself in my hap- 
piness. 

“ Monsieur and Madame de Champlain, Charles 
and the sailors, received Holy Communion. My 
uncle and I were the first to leave the chapel. By 
this time the sun was high in the heavens, and, upon 
the irregular table-land, the flowering heather was 
musical with insects humming in the heat. 

“ The breakfast which my uncle had brought in 
his carriage was quickly taken from the baskets, 


92 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


and I spread it upon a granite block over-grown 
with moss. This light repast was very pleasant, 
and everyone appeared refreshed by it. 

“ At Monsieur de Champlain's request, I had 
sung the Ave Maris Stella during Mass. He 
thanked me quite effusively for having done so and 
told us that when Columbus was seeking the New 
World, he made, his entire fleet sing daily that 
sweetly impressive and truly poetic prayer, the Salve 
Regina. Champlain speaks of Columbus with un- 
bounded admiration. He calls him the world's 
greatest explorer and the most unfortunate of men. 
He told us the following anecdote, which I never 
had heard before. He said that Columbus gave 
orders that he should be buried with the irons he had 
been obliged to wear, — those irons, which he had 
always kept suspended from the walls of his rooms 
as a reminder of earth's fleeting glory and the base 
ingratitude of men. 

“ Madame de Champlain, my uncle and I, re- 
turned in the carriage. Charles came back on foot 
with the sailors. 

“ During the day we visited the tower of Francis 
I. Then, at low-tide, we went out to see the light- 
house. 

“ On our arrival there, I noticed a ring-dove ly- 
ing dead among the slimy rocks. I showed it to 
Charles. He took it between his hands and showed 
me its bleeding head and soiled white plumage. 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


93 


“ ‘ Poor little bird/ he remarked, with unusual 
emotion, ‘ it had wings, it knew the plane of the 
sky, and yet the rays from the lighthouse bewildered 
it and led it astray/ 

“ I felt an icy coldness about my heart ; his words 
very often have this depressing effect upon me. 

li 6 Come Gisella/ he said, ‘ let us visit the light- 
house, and see how they have solved the problem 
of absolute solidity and how they manage to resist 
the ocean's strength.' 

“ I felt sad, and should have preferred to remain 
watching that vast, grey, furrowed plain, from 
which the waters of the sea had receded. But to- 
gether we visited the immense lighthouse with its 
chisel-cut foundations, buried deep in the live rock. 
The large blocks of granite fit one into the other. 
From bottom to top, each stone bites so deeply into 
the neighboring one that the tower appears as one 
solid block, more solid even than the foundation 
rock itself. Nothing could be more solitary or dis- 
mal than that lighthouse out in the sea. I wanted 
to chat with the old keeper, but I felt too timid to 
do so. 

“ It was high-tide, and we had promised to visit 
Monsieur de Champlain's ship. Commandant de 
la Ralde received us cordially, and as host, dis- 
charged his duties quite gracefully. 

“ Never before had I set foot on a vessel. The 
commandant showed me Monsieur de Champlain's 


94 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


cabin in the stern; a few books, some firearms, and 
an astralabe were thrown upon his cot. 

“ The hour of departure was fixed for four 
o’clock and already the sailors were getting under 
sail. 

“ Seated on a stone bench at the end of the pier, 
we watched them at work. Around us the people 
were laughing, pushing and elbowing one another; 
but at the sound of Champlain’s name, repeated in 
quick succession, they became silent. He saluted 
the crowd who stood bare-headed before him, and 
in passing, shook hands with a few. His adieux 
to us were very friendly but brief. 

“ I watched him descend the perpendicular steps, 
— bars of iron, fastened into the rock. A moment 
later he re-appeared upon the stern of his vessel. 

“ The white flag strewn with golden Heur-de-lys 
floated above his head. 

“ ‘ Long live Champlain! Long live New 
France! ’ the crowd shouted lustily. 

“ The ship returned the salute by the booming 
of its cannon and under full sail, gained the open 
sea. 

“ Madame de Champlain was waiting for us in 
a fisherman’s hut upon the beach. We found her 
in a little window which looked towards the sea, 
screening herself as much as possible and hiding her 
tears. Her behavior pleased me; I admire unos- 
tentatious grief. 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


95 

“ The sea-air had chilled me, and I was shiver- 
ing from cold. 

“ ‘ And I don’t see even the ghost of a fagot/ 
Charles said, looking around the poor hearth where 
a few embers were smouldering. He went out, soon 
to return with an armful of boards. 

“ ‘ Wreckage! ’ he cried, proudly, throwing the 
wood upon the hearth. ‘ Now Gisella, you’re go- 
ing to have a fire made with wreckage.’ 

“ He made the fire himself with that inimitable 
grace with which he does everything. In a few 
moments the flames rose bright and warm. De- 
lightful moment! And how comfortable I was be- 
side that fire, made especially for me. 

“ I willingly would have spent the remainder of 
my life in that poor hut, with its cold clay-beaten 
floor. 

“ On his knees before me, Charles kept stirring 
the fire. 

“ Outside the waves broke regularly, formidably ; 
and the pebbles which they washed up rolled down 
the beach with the noise of thunder.” 


7 


CHAPTER XIV 


After their return from Havre, Gisella was trou- 
bled and unhappy. 

Charles remained in his room as much as possi- 
ble. He no longer took his daily walks in the gar- 
den, but went for long solitary rambles in the woods 
of Auteuil. 

Madame Garnier’s eyes were nearly always red 
and swollen from weeping; her husband grew more 
silent and sterner each day. He often spoke quite 
harshly to his son. It was evident that some trou- 
ble existed between them; and, while striving to 
appear unconscious of all this, Gisella was most 
miserable. 

She no longer cared for entertainment or pleas- 
ure. Her love absorbed her! and she was thor- 
oughly indifferent to everything except what 
concerned Charles. 

He had never spoken to her of his intentions, nor 
of the opposition he was meeting with regard to 
them. In this, he was obeying his father’s strict 
command, but from day to day this enforced silence 
became intolerable and his position more unpleas- 
ant. 


96 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


97 


Gisella, thinking that Charles wished to avoid 
her, kept proudly aloof. Therefore he was quite 
surprised one morning, when he was reading at his 
open window, to see her appear on the balcony be- 
fore him. 

“ Will you come for a stroll with me?” she 
asked. 

“ Certainly,” he answered rising, a little agitated. 
He went into his bedroom, knelt for a moment be- 
fore a picture of the Blessed Virgin, then, hat in 
hand, he joined Gisella, who was waiting for him, 
looking as beautiful as the early morning, in her 
dainty white muslin frock. 

“ How can you stay indoors, in weather like 
this?” she asked, as they went down the steps to- 
gether. “ It’s a positive shame to do so.” 

“ I was reading,” he answered. 

“ You were reading! Fine excuse, indeed! It 
is the book of nature one should read this weather. 
Look about you. Even in our own garden there is 
enough to delight those who take the trouble to 
open their eyes.” 

Charles smiled, and allowed his gaze to rest on 
the trees with their magnificent foliage and on the 
flowers still bathed in dew, 

“ It is truly delightful,” he murmured. 

“ You do not bear me any ill-will for disturbing 
you ? ” she asked him, as they entered the long, 
shady linden path, where they were in the habit of 


98 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


walking just after his return. “ You remain shut 
up in your room so much now.” 

A dark cloud of pain passed across his brow. 

“I must really settle down to work,” he said; 
“ a man cannot spend his life in idleness.” 

“ Certainly not. What was that large book you 
were reading so attentively? ” 

“ The Acts of the Martyrs ” he answered in a 
sweetly serious voice. “ A most interesting book 
that tells us how truly Our Lord was loved upon 
earth, and how many sacrifices were made for His 
sake.” 

Gisella paled upon hearing his words and looked 
at him in mute alarm. 

“ And, if I were only to mention young girls like 
yourself, how many there were who preferred to re- 
nounce all the pleasures of this world to suffer and 
die for His sake. Truly He captivates hearts,” 
Charles ended enthusiastically. 

“ They are happy indeed who love but Him,” 
Gisella said in a low trembling voice. “ They need 
fear neither coldness nor neglect.” 

“ There are still other advantages,” he added 
smiling. “ God alone responds to our wish to be 
attracted, subdued, absorbed. You know perfectly, 
Gisella, that all earthly love is a fire that makes a 
great deal of smoke, but it may die out entirely in a 
very short time.” 

“ You believe that? ” she asked, in an altered tone. 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


99 


“ I believe that the human heart has longings 
which God alone can satisfy. That is the reason 
the saints are, in spite of everything, the happy 
ones of this earth.” 

“ You have very strange notions of this world’s 
happiness, it seems to me.” 

“ Not so strange as you imagine,” Charles an- 
swered, with a smile. “ Without doubt, the saints 
live a life of abnegation; but a sacrifice made for 
God will always give a thousand times more happi- 
ness than the object sacrificed would have afforded. 
That was the conclusion St. Aloysius came to, and 
St. Francis Xavier thought men very blind not to 
understand that in refusing to mortify their natural 
wishes they were depriving themselves of life’s 
greatest blessings.” 

“ All that is quite beyond me,” she exclaimed. 
“ It seems to me that God, like a good father, loves 
to see us enjoying the gifts He has given us. No, 
I don’t believe that He wishes us to give up what 
constitutes the joy and charm of life.” 

“ Generally He does not ; but you know very 
well, Gisella, that they are the happiest from whom 
God demands everything.” 

Gisella remained silent. A cruel truth was 
dawning upon her, and all the hopes which she had 
tried to retain were fast being dispelled. She un- 
derstood that the simple Christian life would never 
satisfy a heart like his and that some day soon she 


IOO 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


would be obliged to give him up to God entirely. 
They walked up and down the path in silence. 
Gisella kept her head lowered while irrepressible, 
involuntary tears ran down her face. Could she 
still cherish a hope ? Perhaps. Suddenly she 
stood still, and raising her head asked: 

“Charles, tell me truly. 'Do you really wish to 
leave us? Is it solely your parents’ will that keeps 
you here — or are you still undecided ? ” 

Her look made him turn pale, but he answered 
firmly : 

“ No, Gisella; I am quite decided now, and I wish 
to embrace poverty and sufferings and the Cross. 
I want to give myself entirely to God as He gave 
Himself to me. If it had not been for my father’s 
strict command, I should have told you all this 
long ago.” 

Gisella did not utter a word ; but her face, already 
pale, was overspread with the hue of death, and 
her pretty features became hard and shrunken. 

Charles’ eyes filled with tears. 

“ Dear little sister,” he murmured, “ it is cruel 
to make you suffer so; but I shall pray unceasingly 
to God for your happiness.” 

“ My happiness ! ” she exclaimed, with a look 
that pierced his heart like a sword-thrust. 

“ It is God’s will,” he said, sobbing like a child, 
“ do convince yourself of that Gisella.” 

A slight nervous convulsion contracted her lips, 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


IOI 


and stifling a sob of despair, she sank upon the 
ground. 

Pale as death, Charles remained a few moments’ 
looking at her in this strange immobility, then he 
stooped to raise her up; but she pressed her face 
against the earth, and made him a sign to keep 
away. 


CHAPTER XV 


A few moments later, Charles Gamier was on 
his way to Paris. 

“ Drive to the Carmelite Monastery/' he said, 
and, pulling his hat well over his eyes, he sat far 
back in the carriage. 

Half an hour later they stopped in Rue Vaugir- 
ard, before an old but imposing building surrounded 
by high walls. Charles sprang from the carriage, 
and passed through a narrow portal which led to a 
circular courtyard. 

The sun shone brightly upon the defaced walls of 
the old convent. Above the main entrance, in a 
small marble niche, a statue of the Blessed Virgin 
seemed to smile a sweet welcome to all. 

“ Hail Immaculate Virgin, Hail Mary, Mother of 
God ! " Charles breathed, as he lifted his hat to the 
sacred image. He pushed open a heavy oaken 
door. 

“ May I see my brother, Father Henry of St. 
Joseph?" he asked the lay-brother. 

“ Certainly, sir; please be seated," the brother 
said, opening the parlor door. 

The room was empty; and, instead of seating 
102 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


103 


himself upon one of the chairs that were placed on 
both sides of the wall, Charles walked up and down. 
A painting of St. Teresa hung upon the lime-washed 
walls. Charles had often seen that picture before 
without remarking it particularly; but just then, a 
strong ray of sunlight that stole through the half- 
open window, fell full upon the saint’s face, giving 
her a strange lifelike look. 

He stopped to examine it, and it seemed to him 
as if the saint were looking at him in loving sym- 
pathy and repeating: “ Either to suffer or to die.” 

Father Henry appeared smiling and happy; but 
the moment he saw his brother’s face, the smile died 
upon his lips. 

“ What has happened?” he asked resting his 
hands upon Charles’ shoulders and looking him in 
the eyes. 

Charles’ answer was to throw himself, sobbing, 
upon Father Henry’s neck. Regaining his com- 
posure almost immediately, he raised his head and 
said: 

“ Henry, I am very unhappy.” 

“ Unhappy,” his brother repeated quietly. 
“ Have your expectations lost their sweetness ? 
Surely God’s good pleasure is the best.” 

“ My life has become unbearable,” Charles ex- 
claimed, “ and I am most miserable.” 

Then he told his brother, Henry, all that had 
happened. 


104 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


The young* religious listened with deep attention. 
But he was slow in replying. 

“ What am I to do?” Charles asked, impa- 
tiently. “ Poor child ! When she sank to the 
ground and I saw her lying there in deathlike still- 
ness, my strength nearly deserted me. Every proof 
of her love, even the remotest, came rushing back 
upon me and I thought myself a fool, a barbarian 
and a brute.” 

“ My dear brother,” said the religious, gravely 
but feelingly, — “ you have much to be thankful 
for. There are such hours and moments in all 
our lives. On them depend our vocation, our holi- 
ness, I may almost add our salvation. Thank God ! 
But above all I beg you not to pity yourself. There 
is no need of self-pity when one responds to God’s 
call. No, there is no need of self-pity even when 
the effort has left the heart crushed and bleeding.” 

“ If I were the only one concerned, I should not 
mind. But Gisella. ... It is horrible to 
think I am to be the cause of her unhappiness. 
Henry, when she came to us, — after the death of 
her parents — she was quite young, but even then, 
she felt sorrow far too keenly, and I was the only 
one who could console her.” 

He became silent and hid his face in his hand. 

The Carmelite looked at him, deeply anxious — 
but wishing to put him to the test, said : 

“ Charles, very often we delude ourselves. Vo- 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


!05 


cation is a very serious and difficult matter to de- 
cide. You could do a great deal of good in the 
world, and Divine Providence seems to have ar- 
ranged everything so nicely for your happiness.” 

These words calmed Charles like magic. 

“ No,” he said, lifting his face, wet with tears. 
“ I wish to go to God by the shortest way. In Him 
alone I wish to put all my love and happiness. If 
He has showered every earthly blessing upon me, 
it is solely that I may have all the more to sacrifice 
for His sake; and blessed be His name forever,” 
Charles ended, fervently. 

“ Yes, may He be blessed forever ! ” Father 
Henry repeated, and taking Charles in his arms he 
wept over him. 

“ But what am I to do ? ” asked Charles, who was 
perfectly calm again. “ My father considers my 
vocation a mental disorder. He has strictly forbid- 
den me to mention it to him. He accuses me of 
haughtiness and ingratitude, and my mother's grief 
breaks my heart.” 

“ Come,” said the religious, encouragingly. 
“ What God keeps is well kept. Have confidence 
and pray.” 


CHAPTER XVI 


On returning to his cell, Father Henry remained 
a long time buried in thought before the large yel- 
low-leaved book lying open on his wooden table. 
This preoccupation lasted for several days. Final- 
ly, one evening he knocked at his Superior's door 
and asked permission to go and see his family. 

The permission was given; and early the next 
morning he started off on foot for Auteuil. He 
thought of speaking to Gisella privately and asking 
her to plead Charles' cause with his father. 

Until then every influence had proved useless, but 
would his father be able to withstand the young 
girl's entreaties? This seemed impossible, as her 
loss would be far greater, the blow more personal, 
than his, so perhaps she might be able to touch his 
heart and make him listen to the language of Chris- 
tian charity. 

Would she consent to do this? 

So deeply occupied was he with these thoughts 
that he had already reached, without being aware 
of it, the last turn in the avenue of Bois-Belle. 

A few withered leaves lay on the thick grass, al- 
106 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


107 

though it was but mid-summer, and the silent villa 
was bright with the glory of sunlight. 

Father Henry felt his eyes fill with tears, and 
standing still for a few moments his glance swept 
the entire place — so familiar and dear to his heart. 

Several years had passed since the sorrowful 
but blessed day, when, in response to God’s call, he 
had quitted his family; now all the details of this 
separation came back to him, and his heart grew 
sad at the thought that God was about to ask his 
parents to part with their only remaining son. 
Mastering this momentary weakness, he opened the 
garden gate and crossed the courtyard. 

One of the doors was wide open. The religious 
entered without announcing himself ; and went, 
with beating heart, towards the room in which his 
mother usually sat. 

She was there alone, sitting before her work- 
table, her head resting upon the pretty hands which 
were always so active and industrious. 

She was so deeply absorbed that the Carmelite 
— whose sandals made very little noise upon the 
inlaid floor — had reached her side before she was 
aware of his presence. 

“ Mother, dear,” he whispered. 

She raised her head quickly, and, overcome with 
joy and surprise, she threw herself into his arms. 
Her joy was fleeting; and resting her head upon 


108 THE MASTER MOTIVE 

his shoulder, she wet his white robe with her abun- 
dant tears. She told him that peace had fled from 
the house, that Gisella was ill from grief and that 
Charles was driving them to despair with his wil- 
fulness. 

The religious spoke only sweet comforting words 
to her just then, but when she had grown a little 
calmer, he said: 

“ Charles is very unhappy, too.” 

“ Yes, I know he is; he suffers a great deal, and 
so uselessly. For myself, I can refuse him noth- 
ing; but he will never get his father's consent. Of 
this he can be positive.” 

Just then the Magistrate and Charles came in. 
They were very constrained in their conversation 
and only touched upon trifling subjects. 

“ May I not see Gisella ? ” the religious asked 
suddenly. 

At this very natural request Charles became vis- 
ibly embarrassed, his father gave him an angry look, 
and Madame Gamier, not daring to say anything, 
sent the maid to inform Gisella. 

After a few moments she returned. 

“ Mademoiselle Meliand is very much indisposed 
and begs to be excused, but she will be pleased to 
see Father Henry up-stairs.” 

Since her interview with Charles in the garden, 
Gisella had felt unable to return to her old life, or 
mix with the family; so she shut herself up in 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


109 


her room — rarely seeing Madame Gamier, even. 

Father Henry was so grief-stricken at her al- 
tered appearance and extreme dejection, that the 
ordinary words of encouragement died upon his 
lips. He understood that this child, so gifted and 
scarcely beyond the threshold of girlhood, had no 
further hope in life. 

After placing a chair near the couch on which 
Gisella was lying, Madame Gamier withdrew. 

“ I am so pleased you allowed me to see you;” 
the religious said, as he took his seat. “ I wanted 
to see you particularly — in fact that was my mo- 
tive in coming here.” 

She bowed her thanks, but remained silent. 

“ You have suffered a great deal,” he resumed, 
with heavenly pity, “ and the first days of sorrow 
are terrible to pass through. It is a time of dark- 
ness. But be assured that the light will break in 
upon you, and then you will glorify God, who 
wishes to have Charles all to Himself.” 

She looked at him with an expression of such 
absolute dejection and heart-crushed grief that he 
was melted to tears. 

“ Poor child ! ” he murmured, “ your sacrifice is 
a terrible one, I know. Charles is — I know well 
— your one thought, your one love on earth.” 

“ Yes,” she answered faintly, “ and my life will 
be so long and dreary.” 

“ What we call life is a very trifling, fleeting 


no 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


thing, a dark shadow, a thin vapor. Our years 
pass like moments, Gisella, and soon this world will 
have disappeared forever.” 

“ But,” she said, as if speaking to herself, “ it 
is very sad to have only death to look forward to 
and hiding her face in her hands, she wept bit- 
terly. 

“ My child,” said the religious, after a moment's 
silence, “ listen to me. Would you rob Charles of 
the happiness and glory of his religious vocation? ” 

She wept on without answering, so he continued : 

“ Charles certainly has a religious vocation ; be 
convinced of that. Without that divine strength 
which is the grace of vocation itself, he never could 
have held out. Tell me, have you ever thought of 
the young man of the Gospel whom Christ called, 
but who refused to follow him? Would you have 
Charles do likewise ? ” 

“ No,” she said, sitting up with sudden strength, 
“ I do not wish to be the cause of his unhappiness. 
If God has called him, let him obey the call. I am 
willing to be forsaken — to be despised and tram- 
pled underfoot.” 

Then throwing herself back upon the couch, she 
hid her face in the silk cushions and cried convul- 
sively. The religious looked at her touched with 
tenderest pity. When she was slightly calmer he 
said: 

“ You have a noble soul, Gisella, which gives me 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


hi 


courage to speak. To love a person is to be his 
well-wisher, is it not? Well then, if you wish to, 
you can win from my father the consent which 
Charles has pleaded for so often in vain. This 
would be, dear Gisella, the noblest and best proof 
of love you could ever give him — and this is what 
I came to tell you.” 


8 


CHAPTER XVII 


I Gisella Meliand loved Charles Gamier with that 
deep, passionate and exclusive love which it is given 
to so few to know. Charles lacking, her life would 
be a complete blank, the world a terrible solitude. 
She realized this perfectly; and yet, the next morn- 
ing, before sunrise, her resolution was irrevocably 
taken. Overcoming her physical weakness, she 
rose and dressed herself with extreme care. Then 
she begged her guardian to come to her in her 
room. 

He came immediately and found her reclining on 
a folding chair. Her stern, quiet manner impressed 
him painfully ; but without showing his emotion, he 
kissed her forehead and seated himself beside her. 

“ You wish to speak to me, dearest child ?” he 
asked. 

“ Yes,” she answered, lifting her beautiful sad 
eyes to his. “ I have a favor to ask.” 

“ What is it ? ” he enquired very tenderly, but he 
turned his face aside, for her grief-stricken appear- 
ance hurt him. 

“ I want to return to Port Royal,” she said, 
slowly. 

“ You wish to return to Port Royal,” he ex- 


112 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


ii3 

claimed, bending towards her, and with the look of 
one who had not fully understood. 

“ Yes,” she answered firmly. “ Since I am the 
cause of discord and unhappiness, and as you wish 
to force your son to marry me, I cannot remain in 
your house any longer; therefore, I want your per- 
mission to return to Port Royal, for I have no other 
place to go.” 

The Magistrate’s face worked painfully, his eyes 
were aflame with anger, and rising abruptly, he 
strode towards the window barely refraining from 
dashing it into fragments. His temples throbbed 
violently, while his heart was torn asunder by fierce 
and conflicting emotions. 

With her face buried in her pillows, Gisella 
awaited his answer in silence. 

She had to wait long and anxiously for it. 

Finally, returning to her side, the Magistrate said 
very bitterly: 

“ We might all have been so happy, Gisella; I 
should so love to call you daughter.” 

“ I shall be a daughter to you in all truth,” she 
said, throwing herself into his arms. For a few 
moments she wept unrestrainedly upon his shoul- 
der. Then, lifting her face, which grief had made 
sublime, she asked: 

“ You will leave Charles free to do as he chooses? 
Promise me that you will ? ” 

“ Yes; I give you my solemn promise,” said the 


1 14 THE MASTER MOTIVE 

Magistrate, sobbing in spite of himself. “ Your 
example of noble generosity will not be in vain, so 
far as I am concerned. Poor dear child, this sac- 
rifice will be especially hard for you. Our lives 
are already far spent — but you, you are as yet in 
the morning of existence.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


(Extracts from Gisella’s Diary.) 

“Three weeks ago Charles left to enter the Jesuit 
novitiata He and his father started off at day- 
break, one morning, without bidding us farewell. 
He left two letters on his table, one for his mother, 
the other for me. 

“ To me he wrote : 

“ ‘ My dear friend and loving sister. — May you 
be forever blessed. My father has concealed noth- 
ing from me, and I know how deeply indebted I am 
to you. Console him and my poor dear mother, 
and I implore you, Gisella, not to give way to de- 
spondency. Look up to heaven. Life is fleeting; 
I shall pray for you continually, until the last hour 
of my life/ 

— “ Yes, do pray for me, Charles, for I need 
prayer. Now that I am stronger, I do not weep 
quite so incessantly. But is it because I allow my- 
self to live over again too frequently that hour 
which can never be forgotten? Or is it because, 
with a heart overflowing with life, I am obliged to 
live in a cheerless and empty world ? I cannot say. 
But those sad despairing sounds of the sea upon 
US 


1 16 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


the lonely shore haunt me still. I hear them every 
where. The strange effect of this continual feel- 
ing alarms me somewhat. I must write more. 
Writing calms me, does me good, whereas music 
has quite the contrary effect. 

“ My God ! is it true then, that he is gone ? That 
he shall nevermore return to this house, where 
everything recalls him, where everything speaks 
to me of him? Sweet but bitter memories! If I 
only could indulge my grief, I might probably die 
of it. But he said to me, ‘ console my parents/ and 
I wish to do what he asked me. I shall devote my 
life to them for his sake — every day, hour, and 
minute of it will be given to their care. 

“ His mother is overwhelmed by sorrow, and 
she, once so gay and active, now spends her days 
in tears. I am obliged to busy myself with many 
things. And to be obliged to busy oneself with the 
trifles of everyday life when one has no further 
hope or aspiration, when one is sunk in an abyss of 
complete apathy, is hard indeed. Each day, after 
my morning prayer, I read his letter over again, 
and ask God for a renewal of strength/’ 


“ To-day I entered his room for the first time. 
I mean to convert it into an oratory, where I trust 
I may feel the unction of his late presence. 

“ My tears, which had ceased for a few days, 
flowed anew. I seated myself on the balcony, in 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


ii 7 

his favorite place, and remained there for a long 
time. The garden is already quite bare. There 
are more leaves on the ground than on the trees. 
‘ Where has summer gone?’ I ask myself. If I 
could only believe, firmly believe, in the vanity of 
earthly things, as Charles so often told me. A lit- 
tle strengthened by these thoughts, I returned to his 
rooms. Everything was just as he left it. The 
last bouquet I had made for him lay withered upon 
his table. The ink had dried in his uncovered ink- 
bottle. A few sheets of letter-paper were scat- 
tered about his desk. This paper — the same that 
he had used for his farewell letters — was crumpled 
and stained by tear drops. I concluded he had 
wept, his head resting on the desk. 

“ A strong ray of sun lighted up the picture of 
St. Ignatius contemplating heaven. I looked for 
some time at this painting, which Charles had loved 
so well. This divine attraction, this longing after 
heaven will always remain a mystery to my heart, 
eaten away by regret. If I only could believe that 
all is vanity of vanities and affliction of spirit.” 


“ His mother proposed that I should go with her 
to see Charles. I could not refuse this pleasant 
but trying ordeal; so we started off together. It 
was my first visit to the Jesuits. I had mustered 
all my courage for the interview, but when I reached 
the parlor, my strength failed me. 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


118 

“ I stood up to leave, telling his mother I would 
return soon. Not being able to give away to my 
tears on the street, I entered the church. 

“ It was empty. Two novices, silent as shadows, 
were in the sanctuary, draping the main altar in 
black. 

“The thought of death had a salutary effect on 
me. I said a fervent prayer, and returned to the 
parlor. 

“ Charles was there with his mother. 

“ When I opened the door, he rose hastily and 
came to meet me. 

“ He took me by the hand, saying with his an- 
gelic look, ‘ Blessed be Jesus Christ . Say that, 
Gisella.’ 

“ I did as he told me, and a sweet sense of 
strength stole into my heart. All three of us 
seated ourselves beside a small table in the corner 
of the parlor. 

“ He has grown a little thinner, but much paler. 
His pretty, fair curls have been cut off. The re- 
ligious habit suits him very well, and, I do not 
know why, but on looking at him, I no longer felt 
so utterly desolate. 

“ ‘ Do you imagine,’ he asked, ‘ that I did not 
suffer when leaving? Never in all my life did I 
suffer such great and harrowing grief.’ He spoke 
calmly enough, but his eye-lids worked nervously 
with the effort he made to restrain his tears. 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


1 19 

“We chatted; that is to say, he did all the talk- 
ing, for neither his mother nor I had the courage 
to say a word. 

“ When the hour had expired, he stood up 
promptly and kissed his mother, speaking words 
of tender encouragement to her; he traced the sign 
of the Cross upon my brow and disappeared down 
a dim corridor where a lamp was burning before 
a statue of the Blessed Virgin. 


“ I am all the better for having seen Charles. I 
find a sweet satisfaction in recalling his every word 
and look. His manner towards me has lost the 
coldness and extreme reserve which marked it dur- 
ing the last few weeks he was at home. 

“ He loves me dearly, I know, — but with a spir- 
itualized love, much the same as the love of the 
saints in heaven. His pity for my suffering re- 
calls that tender and serene compassion which we 
attribute to the blessed. 

“He bade me pray frequently; prayer would 
fortify me and elevate me to those heights from 
whence we can see earthly things in their real light 
and under their true aspect. How I should love 
to hasten that hour — to break away from the pres- 
ent and forget the future which awaits me ! 

“ He told me also how much suffering we could 
spare ourselves if we always did what was right, if 
we could only realize that we are not in this world 


120 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


to be happy. Yes, I have realized that. I know 
now that suffering is necessary here below. But 
is joy less necessary? What would be the use of 
rain, if we did not have the warm rays of the sun? 
So what can one expect from a life of complete sad- 
ness? My youth, suddenly become old, has no 
further hope, and my heart faints before the life 
which has been ordained for me; for it is ended, 
eternally ended, as far as happiness is concerned. 
The decision of a sacrifice is not the hardest part ; it 
is being able to persevere in it_ and renew it. I 
realize the truth of this every moment of my life. 
Does he? 

“ Charles is sustained by that divine love which I 
am not worthy to possess. Moreover, he has a 
heroic will. How foolish of me to have enter- 
tained any hope. Now I know it. If, deceived 
for a moment by his heart, he nearly succumbed to 
the pleasures of this world, he will humiliate him- 
self for it all his life, and the memory of that hour 
of supreme temptation is already for him but as 
dust and ashes which he will cast upon his sacrifice 
to dull its effulgency.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


Four years have passed. It was in the begin- 
ning of the winter of 1629. 

Monsieur de Champlain had not revisited France. 
Reginald de Brunand had perished at the siege of 
La Rochelle, and Charles Gamier had become a re- 
ligious. 

Gisella had been present when he pronounced his 
vows; she had seen him prostrate upon the floor 
of the sanctuary, had seen him receive the Holy 
Orders which made him a priest forever. 

She was often tempted to enter the cloister her- 
self, but she banished the thought in order not to 
drive her adopted parents to despair, as their love 
for her had almost become worshipful in its in- 
tensity. 

Monsieur and Madame Gamier had believed at 
first that time would surely cure her regrets; that 
resignation would be followed by calm. They even 
hoped that there would be a chance of happiness 
for her yet, but they were forced to believe other- 
wise. 

“ I remain in the world solely for your sakes,” 
she would answer, when they spoke to her of mar- 
121 


122 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


riage. “ If I survive you, I shall become a re- 
ligious; so please consider my future settled.” 

Notwithstanding this very decided declaration, 
neither the Magistrate nor his wife would con- 
sent to her living a retired life. Consequently, 
Gisella often went into society, where she felt quite 
lonely even in the midst of the most brilliant func- 
tions. Those honors and flatteries which have the 
power of turning even the wisest heads left Gisella 
cold and indifferent. The ballroom had no attrac- 
tion for her. For there, more than elsewhere, the 
memory of Charles came back to her intensified 
and hallowed. 

Her love for him had been transformed, but it 
still filled her heart ; and as a woman usually adopts 
the same opinions as the man she loves, she 
despised those vain pleasures, those frivolous joys 
which Charles had despised, and without either an 
effort of thought or virtue. 

No one could ever take his place in her affections, 
she was convinced of this. But in her secret heart, 
beneath the calm exterior which her strong will al- 
lowed her to keep up, she felt all the tender aspira- 
tions of her age ; and that interminable desert which 
stretched out before her youth seemed terrible to 
her to have to traverse. 

The first agony of separation over, Gisella de- 
voted herself to the study of music; and, to the un- 
utterable pleasure of those who surrounded her, her 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


123 


sorrows often found expression through this me- 
dium. But music, which only intensifies emotion, 
had not been of very great benefit to her. True 
consolation must come to her from on high. 
Gisella knew this, and God was not deaf to her 
cry when she begged Him to fill the immense and 
horrible void which had been made in her life. As 
a reward of persevering prayer, she felt her soul 
grow daily stronger and more tranquil. 

“ I shall strive to climb to the heights to which 
he has soared/’ she would often say. 

Gisella had no intimate girl friend of her own 
age, but a deep sympathy existed between her and 
Madame de Champlain. 

One fine day in November, 1629, she started off 
on a visit to her friend. A black velvet mask — 
according to the fashion of that time — covered her 
face. Accompanied by her waiting-maid, she 
walked slowly along, unconscious of everything 
that was taking place around her. When they 
reached Rue St. Germain l’Auxerrois, Gisella 
stopped before an old-fashioned house with dia- 
mond-paned windows and wrought-iron balcony. 

“ I believe there has been news from Monsieur 
de Champlain/’ said the old servant who opened 
the door. 

Gisella removed her black velvet headdress, and, 
slightly excited, she ascended the staircase which 
led to a large dark landing off which Madame de 


124 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


Champlain’s informal reception-room opened. The 
door was ajar; and at the first glance Gisella saw 
her hostess. She was standing, leaning upon the 
back of an arm-chair, and appeared quite agitated, 
but was listening very attentively to some one who 
was speaking with great animation. Gisella could 
not see the speaker, but his manly voice made her 
heart beat wildly, by recalling to her an hour of 
sacred memory. 

“ Come in, Gisella,” said Madame de Champlain, 
on perceiving the young girl. “ You are going to 
see a missionary whom you cannot have forgot- 
ten.” 

“ I am pleased to see you again*” said Father 
Brebeuf. “Your farewell song has come back to 
me oftentimes, but, as you see, I have not had the 
honor to suffer martyrdom.” 

He had aged greatly during the last four years; 
but he was still the true type of an athlete ready 
for warfare. 

“And how is Monsieur de Champlain?” asked 
Gisella, after she had made a respectful obeisance 
to the missionary. 

“ Monsieur de Champlain will soon be here. We 
crossed the ocean together. I left him at Ply- 
mouth, on his way to London, where he has gone 
to try and have Quebec restored to him. Peace 
was concluded when the Kirk Brothers, Huguenots 
in the service of England, took possession of it. 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


125 


“ Quebec in the power of the English !” ex- 
claimed Gisella. “ What a misfortune this is for 
Monsieur de Champlain. How did it happen? Tell 
me, Father? ” 

“ For three years Quebec has received neither 
provisions nor ammunition. Monsieur de Roque- 
mont’s fleet was intercepted and partially destroyed 
by the English. Last summer the Kirks anchored 
off Tadoussac, and commanded Monsieur de Cham- 
plain to deliver the fort to them. Monsieur re- 
ceived their messenger very graciously but said : 

“ ‘ If the English wish to attack us, let them 
march against us instead of threatening us at such 
a distance/ 

“ Deceived by such assurance, the English did 
not dare risk an attack just then. Complete re- 
sistance was impossible, however. The French had 
barely fifty pounds of powder; and a few days be- 
fore, two of the fort towers had tumbled down. 
Moreover, hunger was making itself painfully felt 
in Quebec. ‘ But it is not forbidden to put a good 
face on things/ Monsieur de Champlain would say. 
He took every precaution to relieve his people and 
succeeded in getting through the winter without 
any of them dying of starvation. Monsieur de 
Champlain always sat down cheerfully to the com- 
mon rations — seven ounces of peas a day. In 
the month of May the peas were exhausted. For 
a long time they had neither powder nor shot. The 


126 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


women and children spent their days in, the woods, 
searching for acorns and roots, Solomon’s Seal 
being the greatest favorite. They were so ex- 
hausted by hunger, that when the English arrived, 
in the month of July, they were received as de- 
liverers.” 

Madame de Champlain had covered her face with 
her hands, and the tears trickled through her 
fingers. 

“ Madame,” said the Jesuit, soothingly, “ he suf- 
fered everything heroically, and you have every 
reason to be proud of him. Besides; the terms of 
capitulation have been very honorable. The Kirks 
have treated Monsieur de Champlain with the 
greatest respect. They did not wish him to leave 
his apartments. They even gave him permission 
to have Mass celebrated there.” 

“ Have Fathers Masse arid Lalemant returned 
also?” Gisella asked. 

“ They were obliged to do so. Those Huguenots 
would never tolerate a Jesuit,” said Father Brebeuf, 
gaily. “ When Commander Kirk came to Our 
Lady of the Angels, his first word was to tell us 
that he was sorry he could not begin operations by 
shelling our house. However, to do them justice, 
the Kirks acted very fairly with everyone else. 
But it was hard to see the cross of St. George re- 
place the white flag of France.” 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


127 


“ Was Monsieur de Champlain very dejected ?” 
asked the ladies. 

“ After the capitulation was signed he seemed 
very unhappy. He asked to be taken to Tadous- 
sac. I went down on the same vessel. The He- 
berts, the Couillards — in fact, all who remained in 
Quebec — came to see him off. ‘ I will come back, 
I promise you I will/ he said; and I think he was 
on the verge of tears. At Tadoussac he was hap- 
pier and went shooting larks with the English ad- 
miral. He is one of those whom grief does not 
attack/’ said Brebeuf, as he rose to leave. 

“ Father,” said Gisella, “ did you find the life 
of a missionary very terrible ? Did you have much 
to suffer from the Indians ? ” 

The Jesuit’s worn face shone with the light of 
happy memory. 

“ Jesu dulcis memoria ” he said, “ what you sang 
for me on the eve of my departure, I have expe- 
rienced, and, like Monsieur de Champlain, I hope to 
return to Canada.” 


0 


CHAPTER XX 


After many negotiations, Quebec was restored 
to France; and on the 23rd of March, 1633, Samuel 
de Champlain sailed from Dieppe to take posses- 
sion of the colony once more. During the interval, 
Gisella had seen him quite frequently, and his 
friendship had been of great benefit to her. This 
brave and thoroughly unselfish man had given her 
greater moral courage, by teaching her to rise above 
her personal regrets. 

On the other hand, he enjoyed conversing with 
this serious-minded young girl. But he particu- 
larly loved to hear her sing. 

Her angelic voice awakened that deep spirit of 
poetry and love of romance which was in him; it 
made him forget the weighty and wretched realities 
of life and charmed him into dreams of delusive 
happiness. He forgot his approaching old age; 
forgot the bitterness of his trials and anxieties. He 
felt as young and as enthusiastic again as he did 
in that memorable hour when first the beauties of 
Quebec revealed themselves to his eyes and capti- 
vated his heart. What must have been his an- 
128 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


129 

guish of spirit when he was obliged to abandon his 
work ! 

But thanks to the Blessed Virgin, he was going to 
take possession of New France again. Under her 
protection he has placed all his enterprises; to her 
he gave all the glory of his success. He loved to 
speak of the chapel which he had vowed to erect 
in her honor at Quebec. 

Often in the evening — when resting after the 
labors of the day — Gisella had seen him, pencil 
in hand, drawing the plan of his chapel : “ I shall 

call it Our Lady of Recovery,” he would say. 

When Monsieur de Champlain was gone, Gisella 
found the little drawing-room in the Rue St. 
Germain TAuxerrois very lonely and desolate. 
But before long she was to experience another and 
far more painful loss in her life. 


CHAPTER XXI 


The summer of 1634 was drawing to a close. 
Already the fine trees at Bois-Belle were tinged by 
the glorious hues of autumn. 

The Garniers were returning from Paris, where 
they had gone to see their son Charles, now profes- 
sor at Clermont College. 

Gisella, who accompanied them, appeared 
thoughtful and anxious. The Relations of Nezv 
France had just been published. Father Gamier 
had received his copy for the year 1633 which he 
gave to Gisella. As he handed her the pamphlet, 
he slipped a letter into her hand, saying at the same 
time with deep emotion : 

“ I hope you still take an interest in the mis- 
sions/’ 

Gisella brooded over his words as she mechani- 
cally turned over the pages of the little book. On 
leaving the carriage, she hastened to her room and 
locked herself in. A secret instinct warned her 
that fresh trouble was in store for her. For a 
few moments she remained standing, turning the 
letter back and forth in her fingers. Then casting 
130 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


131 

herself upon her knees before her crucifix, she 
opened it. 

Bu't scarcely had she read the first few lines, 
when she let the letter flutter to the floor; and 
rising hurriedly she cried out in a voice of anguish : 

“ No, my God ! not that — I can never consent to 
that.” 

Before her the figure of Christ hung out in 
strong relief from the cross. Involuntarily her 
eyes sought it, and as if alarmed at the boldness 
of her words, she covered her face with her hands, 
and sank upon the floor. 

She remained there for some time, sobbing bit- 
terly. 

Finally she rose, picked up the letter and throw- 
ing herself upon her bed she read it through to 
the last word : 

Dear Sister . 

What I am going to ask will appear very ter- 
rible to you at first, but you are possessed of 
great courage, and you will help me, I am sure, 
to respond to the all-merciful designs of God. 
Gisella, I am going to become a missionary — 
rather, God calls me to the apostolate. It is as- 
suredly God’s voice that I have heard of late say- 
ing in the secret depths of my heart : — ‘ Go out 
to Canada and teach the poor Indians the immense 


1 3 2 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


price of their redemption. . . . Go, and fear 

nothing. I shall be with you, I who am the joy 
of heaven and the all-powerful God.' 

“ I wanted to leave last year, with Father Bre- 
beuf and Monsieur de Champlain, and I set about 
preparing to do so. But my superiors thought it 
would be too great a blow for my parents; they 
do not wish to impose this additional sacrifice upon 
them. They tell me I can never go to Canada 
unless I get my father's consent. Will you try and 
gain his consent, Gisella? It is with the greatest 
confidence I recommend myself to you. 

“ So far I have been most unsuccessful, but my 
father's love for you, gives you great power over 
his heart. Moreover, it is my firm belief that Our 
Blessed Lady, to whom I pray continually, wishes 
to use you as her medium. 

“ Let not the thought of separation, nor the 
hardships which await me out there deter you. 
Both our joys and sorrows are so transitory. Gi- 
sella, our true happiness consists in sacrificing 
everything for Him, who will be our eternal re- 
ward." 

Gisella had been interrupted several times in the 
reading of her letter, by blinding tears. But now a 
calm, as sudden as it was inexplicable, came over 
her, and burying her face in her pillow, she set 
about meditating over the meaning of the word 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


133 


“ Eternity.” She remained thus for an hour. 
When she lifted her head from her pillow, she 
was resolved to do all in her power to make Mon- 
sieur Gamier accept this supreme sacrifice. 

Several months passed without any apparent re- 
sult. 

But in the winter of 1636, the long-despaired-of 
consent was given. 

“ Go where God calls you,” said the Magistrate 
to his son, “ who am I, that I should oppose God’s 
most holy will?” 

Charles’ departure was immediately decided 
upon. 

He broke the news to his mother himself, and on 
his knees he begged her permission to go and preach 
the Gospel to the poor Indians of Canada. 


CHAPTER XXII 


One day shortly afterwards, when Gisella was 
alone, Father Gamier came to the villa. His usually 
bright and happy face appeared quite sad. 

“ I have very sorrowful news for you, Gisella,” 
he said, after his greeting. 

She looked at him, deeply apprehensive but with- 
out speaking. 

“The ships are in,” he continued. “They have 
brought very sad tidings indeed, Gisella. Mon- 
sieur de Champlain is dead.” 

“ Dead ! ” she repeated, mournfully. 

“ Yes, he died on Christmas day, and I have 
come to break the news to my father.” 

“ Are there any particulars ? ” 

“ He died in Quebec, at Fort St. Louis. He 
who had confronted all the dangers of ocean and 
forest, died peacefully in his bed, after an illness 
of two months and a half.” 

“ Has Madame de Champlain heard the news 
yet?” 

“ She should know it by now. The messenger 
who brought our letters, had some for her un- 
doubtedly.” 


134 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


135 

“ My God ! ” murmured Gisella, moved to tears, 
“ how little I expected his death.” 

“ It has come as a great surprise to us all.” 

“ There are some lives so useful and prolific of 
good that they seem secure even against death.” 

“ That is very true — I almost thought his was 
at least until New France would be established. I 
was sure he would see his colony in a flourishing 
condition before he died.” 

“ He died in the attempt. That suffices, Gisella,” 
said the Jesuit with enthusiasm. 

“ But he would have been so happy to see his 
work prosper. He dreamed such great possibili- 
ties for his beloved New France.” 

The religious smiled. 

“ My dear child,” said he, “ in the battle of life 
far more victims fall, than in any other warfare. 
Our ambitions and dreams are lost along its high- 
way — at least, what is best and brightest of them. 
Monsieur de Champlain realized this fully. He 
founded New France at all events. . . . Do 

not pity him; even in the grandest human triumphs 
something is lacking.” 

“ He would have been such a good friend to you 
out in Canada,” said Gisella, who was still weep- 
ing. 

“ God alone is all I need, Gisella.” 

He saw his parents returning, so he rose and 
went to meet them. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


Gisella was truly grieved by Monsieur de 
Champlain's death. 

The account of his last moments interested her 
deeply; and those salutary thoughts to which death 
gave rise, helped her to meet Charles' approaching 
departure with greater courage. 

On the tenth of March, Monsieur Huault de 
Montmagny, Knight of Malta, was named Gover- 
nor of Canada. He was to sail in early spring, and 
the missionary Fathers were to leave with him. 

“ My aunt and I spent some days working for 
them," Gisella wrote, “ we were often interrupted 
by our tears, but we worked nevertheless. Our 
missionary came to see us every day, and I can- 
not tell you how much his presence consoled and 
strengthened me. It is quite evident that his heart 
is filled with a joy far surpassing all earthly hap- 
piness. Each time he came he asked me to sing. 
It seemed impossible to do so at first, but my anx- 
iety to gratify his every wish gave me the neces- 
sary courage. He always requested gay and happy 
songs, in which he often joined, carried away by 
the joy which inundated his heart. 

136 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


137 


“ I felt the holy and wondrous joy of sacrifice 
envelope and penetrate me. And how speak of the 
heavenly sweetness, the divine charm of those mo- 
ments when I experienced in such a powerful and 
intimate manner, the happy influence which he al- 
ways exercised over me. 

“ He was to leave Paris on the 26th of March. 
The evening before, he came to see us for the last 
time; and as long as I live, I shall remember every 
detail of that harrowing hour. During the night, 
my uncle became quite ill. He grew delirious, and 
did not recognize his son, whom he spoke of con- 
tinually and whom he imagined he was trying to 
rescue from the hands of the Indians. Charles 
tried to console his mother, who was quite alarmed 
about this fever, and drawing her to a window, he 
spoke to her for a long time in subdued tones. 

“ Then he returned to his father who was sleep- 
ing uneasily. He remained standing* beside his 
bed for a few moments, looking at him in silence. 
His eyes, which were still dry and bright, suddenly 
became quite hollow. He turned deathly pale, and 
without uttering a word, he kissed and blessed his 
father. 

“ His mother, completely overcome, sank into a 
chair and he knelt before her. 

“ ‘ Mother dear, how I love and thank you/ he 
said. 

“ She looked at him in mute agony. One felt 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


138 

that death would have been preferable to this tor- 
ture. 

“ He spoke to her of the shortness of life, of 
their speedy and happy reunion in Heaven; and 
pressing her to his heart, he tenderly kissed her 
pain-distorted face and attempted to rise. 

“ But she clung to him, sobbing and moaning 
and held him in a close and final embrace. 

“ ‘ Mother/ he said at last, in inexpressible ac- 
cents, ‘ for the love of God, let me go/ 

“ He freed himself from her desperate embrace, 
and placing her half dead in my arms, he left the 
room without even glancing back. 

“ Poor woman, her first words on regaining con- 
sciousness were those of self-condemnation ; she 
considered herself unworthy to be his mother. 

“ We spent the night watching at our dear pa- 
tient’s bedside. 

“ The many attentions he required roused Ma- 
dame Gamier from her overwhelming sorrow. 
And she who was dying of grief had the courage 
to attend to all his little needs. At day-break, I 
went to the Jesuits’ church to hear Charles’ last 
Mass, and to see him once more. 

“ I first heard Father Chastellain’s Mass, (he was 
one of the departing missionaries), then I heard 
Charles’. 

“ Hidden in a dark corner, I tried to pray and 
prepare myself for Holy Communion. But the 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


139 


grief of separation possessed and dominated me. 

“ It seemed to me that we had never been sep- 
arated before. I realized now the sweetness and 
deep consolation of that intercourse which formerly 
I had thought so rare, cold and severe. 

“ The thought that I should never see him again, 
never more hear his voice, plunged me into a bitter 
agony, and like those who are already in the throes 
of death, I felt I was beyond all human help and 
consolation. 

“ But he was praying for me, and God had 
listened to his prayer. For just as he pronounced 
the words Sursum Cor da my entire being was 
flooded by a sense of extraordinary and delicious 
peace. An irresistible force raised me above all 
earthly considerations. The life of a missionary 
which had hitherto possessed such horrors for me, 
I saw, for a moment, through the eyes of faith, 
just as it really is, and as they see it who are en- 
lightened by God’s own true light. 

“ The moment was fleeting but it had enlight- 
ened me to my innermost soul. 

“ 4 Truly, they are the happiest who suffer all for 
the love of God.’ I knew it, and I felt it then. 
God grant that I may never forget it. 

“ After Mass I went to the parlor. Charles 
came to me almost immediately, and seated face to 
face beside the little table, we had our last inter- 
view. My courage had deserted me when he ap- 


140 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


peared, or rather as I looked at him, I thought my 
heart would break. 

“ 6 Dear sister/ he said, with his incomparable 
gentleness, ‘ do not weep like this I beg of you. 
Where is your faith? Surely God can sweeten 
every trial. Do you think He will forsake those 
who, for love of Him, have renounced everything? ’ 
He spoke quite calmly, his eyes raised to heaven 
as usual, and never did his look, so peculiarly ex- 
pressive of an invisible world, appear so beautiful 
before. If the Indians are quick to recognize the 
distinctive traits of a person’s face, they will surely 
call him, ‘ the one who gazes heavenward/ 

“ He recommended his parents to my care. 

“ ‘ After God and the Blessed Virgin it is to you 
I confide them/ he said, ‘ I rely on you as I would 
on myself — and even a little more perhaps/ 

“ ‘ I promise you/ I told him, ‘ to devote myself 
entirely to their consolation and happiness. I shall 
do for them what I should have been so delighted 
to have done for you/ 

“ He rested his head upon his hands, and re- 
mained so for a few moments. When he raised his 
head his tear-filled eyes shone with heavenly light. 

“ 4 Gisella/ he said, ‘ God came between us, but 
He did not disunite us. This earthly separation 
will help to make our eternal union all the more in- 
timate and soul-satisfying/ 

“ Sweet and cherished words, which I keep repeat- 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


141 

in g. I begged him to write them in my prayer-book. 
He did what I requested, and as I gazed at his fair 
head bent over the table, I was thoroughly con- 
vinced that I was looking at him for the last time. 
I told him this. 

“ ‘ It is my impression too/ he replied, ‘ that I 
shall never return to France. But what does it 
matter? We are sure to meet in heaven/ 

“ He gave me back my book, and took from his 
breast pocket a little blank note-book , 1 which his 
Superior had allowed me to give him as a souvenir. 

“ ‘ I shall carry this about with me everywhere/ 
Then looking at the time he rose saying, ‘ Gisella, 
you have helped me to be both religious, and a 
missionary. The souls which I shall be instru- 
mental in saving will be your glory throughout 
eternity.’ He was very pale but his face beamed 
with divine fervor. 

“ As for myself, I had lost all my needed courage, 
and sat mute and motionless. 

“ 6 Come, Gisella, it is time for you to go/ he 
said in a firm and authoritative voice. 

“ I rose, but being unable to utter one word, I 

1 In 1654, Father Lemoyne, S. J., an Iroquois missionary, 
found a small prayer book, which had belonged to Father 
Gamier, in the possession of one of the savages, who had 
robbed his person after death. The Indian consented to re- 
turn this precious relic to Father Lemoyne. “ Its possession 
gave me more pleasure/’ he wrote, “than the discovery of a 
gold-mine.” 


142 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


cast myself on my knees before him. He mur- 
mured : 

“ ‘ Beloved friend of my childhood, may you be 
forever blessed/ and resting his hand upon my head, 
he prayed for some moments in silence. Then he 
gave me his missionary’s crucifix to kiss, and as 
he pressed it to my lips he said : 

“ ‘ May the love of Jesus Christ dwell in your 
heart, filling it with heavenly peace and happiness/ 

“ One moment later he had disappeared down the 
dim corridor/’ 


CHAPTER XXIV 


(Father Gamier to Gisella Meliand.) 

Our Lady of the Angels, 

June 2 ist, 1636. 

“ Dear Sister , 

“ I have given my parents all the particulars 
of my ocean trip, reserving the account of New 
France for you. We left Dieppe the ist of April, 
and during the night of June nth, we cast anchor 
before Quebec. 

“ I tried to see a little of that wild unparalleled 
beauty which I had heard so much about; but I 
looked in vain, I could only catch a glimpse of the 
cove wherein the beauty of the stars was reflected. 
Too happy to think of sleeping, I awaited daylight 
on deck. 

“ The night was calm and beautiful. The per- 
fume of the forests was wafted to me on the inland 
breezes. I11 that vast and fragrant solitude I 
prayed with an exuberant spirit, thinking of you 
all, of Monsieur de Champlain, who is sleeping his 
last long sleep near by, of those poor Indians still 
in the shadow of death. God be praised by all His 
angels for the great grace He has bestowed on me 
10 *43 


144 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


in sending me to the missions. I shall never fully 
understand it till I have reached heaven, and a 
thousand sacrificed lives will not suffice to repay it. 
I realize that, and the Magnificat is forever rising 
to my lips. 

“ Meanwhile the stars had paled, and Quebec 
was slowly emerging from shadow. You know 
those half-lights, those soft, uncertain grey tints of 
early morning. I was deeply affected on recogniz- 
ing what I had not seen as yet ; the Habitation, the 
Chapel, and Fort St. Louis which is built like an 
eagle’s nest on the summit of the steep rock. 

“ On board, the crew was already astir, and the 
booming of our cannon soon informed Quebec, — 
still asleep — that her new governor was in port. 

“ They answered us almost immediately from 
the Fort, and through the smoke of their cannon I 
saw them hoist the white flag. At the same mo- 
ment, the rising sun lighted up the river and all that 
wild magnificent nature. Without exaggeration, 
it was a most beautiful sight. 

“ I wanted to go on shore immediately in search 
of Our Lady of the Angels, but etiquette exacted 
that Monsieur de Montmagny should be the first 
to leave the ship. A crowd had already gathered 
on the shore, and the excitement grew intense. 
Standing on deck, the governor looked about 
gravely and leisurely. After having kept me on 
the rack for some time, he decided to enter the 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


145 


flag-decorated boat which awaited him, inviting 
Father Chastellain and myself to accompany him. 
He was in full uniform, and wore the white en- 
ameled cross of the Knights of Malta on his breast. 
General Duplessis de Brochart and the Chevalier 
de ITsle stood on either side of him, both looking 
very handsome and imposing. The remaining 
officers followed in the other boats. 

“ On the shore, in the front rank, a member of 
our Society, Father Lejeune, I concluded, was 
standing beside a soldier of fine appearance, whom 
I supposed to be Monsieur de Chateaufort. 

“ I had not made a mistake in either case ; and 
after the usual civilities, the governor, followed by 
the crowd, wended his way to the Chapel. 

“ Perceiving a cross which had been raised at the 
foot of the mountain, he said : 

“ ‘ As this is the first cross I have met in this 
country, let us adore the Crucified in His represen- 
tation.’ 

“ Then to the sound of beating drums we climbed 
the mountain way, which Monsieur de Champlain 
had so often trod. 

“ Our Lady of Recovery, is about three or four 
hundred feet from the Fort. This newly-built 
chapel which is entirely white, is surrounded by 
trees of a century’s growth and possesses a beauty 
and character quite its own. 

“ A very beautiful painting representing the An- 


146 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


nunciation hangs above the altar . 1 Ave Maria. 
Never before had I uttered these words with such 
deep joy. Father Lejeune intoned the Te 
Deum. How happy we shall be in heaven, Gi- 
sella, where our eternity shall consist of one long 
hymn of praise to God for all His mercies ! 

“ On leaving the church, Monsieur de Chateau- 
fort solemnly handed over the keys of the citadel to 
Monsieur de Montmagny who, accompanied by the 
band, went to take possession of it. In the mean- 
time, Father Superior conducted us by a forest path 
to Our Lady of the Angels. 

“ After having walked about half a mile, we 
found ourselves in a wild prairie on the banks of 
the river. 

“ On the opposite side, in the middle of a large 
clearing which had been made in the thickest part 
of the forest, I perceived a small, low house sur- 
mounted by a cross. This was Our Lady of the 
Angels, the first Jesuit residence in Canada. 
Fields of wheat, barley/ oats and maize surrounded 
it, the entire place being protected by a strong pali- 
sade. 

“ While Father de Chastellain and I were exam- 
ining the place, Father Superior was looking for 

1 After the shipwreck in which Fathers Vieuxpont and 
Noyrot perished, this painting, buffeted by the sea, was cast 
on the shore of Cape Breton. It was not in the least injured 
and was sent to Quebec to hang in Monsieur de Champlain’s 
chapel. 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


147 


something in the rushes which grow on the edge of 
the river. He pulled out a bark canoe from this 
shelter, and, pushing it into the water, he paddled 
across. The house stands about two hundred feet 
from the river and is built of roughly-planed 
boards, the spaces being filled up with mud. The 
roof is thatched with large reeds from the river's 
edge. 

“ It is a one-story building ; measuring twenty- 
seven feet by thirty-nine, and is divided into four 
rooms, one being used as a chapel. 

“ This chapel is certainly very poor. A very 
short while ago, the only decoration we had for the 
altar was a sheet on which two 1 pictures had been 
pasted. Now we have a painting of the Blessed 
Virgin surrounded by kneeling angels. 

“ In this beloved chapel I celebrated my first Mass 
in New France: it was the feast of Saint Barnabas, 
consequently I said the Mass of an apostle, and, 
Gisella, I read with triumphant joy these words of 
the divine Master : ‘ I have chosen you out of the 
world.' 

“ Father Brebeuf has been with the Hurons for 
the last two years. His mission is about three 
hundred leagues from here. Father Davost, Dan- 
iel, Pijart, and Le Mercier have joined him. The 
Huron mission is without comparison the most la- 
borious and dangerous one, but it is also the most 
coveted and sought after. Among ourselves we 


148 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


speak of it as the earthly paradise, and the question 
is, ‘ Who will be sent there ? ’ 

“ Father Superior, who serves ‘ Our Lady of 
Recovery/ took me with him the day after my ar- 
rival and allowed me to visit the Fort. I shall 
never forget that sad but impressive visit. Ah, 
Gisella, how sensibly near me our Monsieur de 
Champlain seemed to be, and how deeply affected I 
was when I entered his home in that poor Fort St. 
Louis, which is probably the cradle of another 
France! 

“ Monsieur de Chateaufort, insisted on being my 
guide. There is nothing remarkable about the 
bare gloomy rooms, except the large hall, which is 
a spacious, vaulted apartment of imposing appear- 
ance. The large fireplace is a monument in itself. 
A scroll of Heur-de-lys runs along each side of the 
hearth, while a cross in half-relief is carved in the 
upper part of the mantel. A frieze, which connects 
the two pillars, contains a statue of St. Louis with 
his helmet on. 

“ In this room Monsieur de Champlain was laid 
out after death. A French flag which had always 
hung over his mantel half covered him and served 
as a winding-sheet. 

“ His private apartment was next to this large 
hall : 

“ ‘ Here are his working table, arm-chair and the 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


149 

bed on which he died,’ said Monsieur de Chateau- 
fort. 

“ In his bed-room, I noticed a very pretty view 
of Brouage, Monsieur de Champlain’s native town. 

“ A telescope, speaking-trumpet and a few astro- 
nomical instruments were put away in a cupboard 
with glass doors. I examined his books, which 
stood on plain wooden shelves. A treatise on nav- 
igation, a few pious books, some works of history 
and travel, and the “ Lives of the Saints ” were 
what filled up the rare moments of leisure in his 
solitude. 

“ Monsieur de Chateaufort gave me a great 
many details of Monsieur de Champlain’s life and 
death. Truly, Gisella, my father was justified in 
saying that Samuel de Champlain was one of the 
noblest sons of noble France. 

“ It was with the deepest reverence I sat beside 
his hearth! I wanted to be alone, to weep, to ask 
Almighty God, prostrate on those hallowed flag- 
stones that the work which he had undertaken at 
such cost to himself might not perish, but that we 
might have a New France in the near future. 

“ Monsieur de Montmagny is going to erect a 
chapel over Champlain’s grave. The temporary 
stone is a very simple one; a small cross bearing 
his name and a few lily branches with unopened 
buds. 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


150 

“ I placed your wreath of immortelles upon his 
grave. There was a beautiful one there already, 
sent by Madame de Champlain. I wanted to 
linger beside that closed tomb. The silence of 
death speaks to our souls so much more impres- 
sively than words. How happy he must be, Gi- 
sella, to have done God's most holy will, and to 
have given up everything for his glorious mission. 

“ Pondering over these things, I returned to 
* Our Lady of the Angels ’ by a path in the forest. 
Fathers Ragueneau and Adam arrived in the last 
ships. Father Jogues is the only one still on his 
way here; and our refectory, which serves as dor- 
mitory too, is not sufficiently large to accommodate 
us all. Some of us are obliged to sleep in the attic; 
but each one cheerfully accepts his share of these 
little discomforts. 

“ I am, I admit, earnestly entreating Our Im- 
maculate Mother, who seldom refuses me, to send 
me soon to the Huron mission. Once there, I shall 
consider myself a true missionary. Do not pity me 
if you should hear of my being sent there. Priva- 
tions are the stepping stones to divine love, and 
true riches consist in having nothing more to sac- 
rificed 


CHAPTER XXV 


During the month of June, the Superior of the 
Jesuits was often seen walking, buried in thought, 
on the banks of the River St. Charles. 

Father Brebeuf had asked him for additional 
help, and the Hurons, who were coming to Three 
Rivers for the trading season, were to take the mis- 
sionaries back with them. “ Send me saints,” 
Father Brebeuf had written. 

And whilst repeating these words, Father Le- 
jeune asked Almighty God to enlighten him. As 
the day drew near, the prayers of the Fathers be- 
came more frequent and ardent, and full many 
were the vows and supplications addressed by them 
to the Queen of Martyrs to obtain the grace of be- 
ing sent there, for the Huron mission was the su- 
preme ambition of all the Jesuits at “ Our Lady of 
the Angels.” 

And yet, they were not ignorant of what awaited 
them there; for here is what Father Brebeuf, of 
glorious memory, and the first apostle to the Hu- 
rons, wrote to them, after having protested that he 
did not want to cool their zeal, but only wished to 
give them some advice on the matter. 

“ It is true,” he said, “ that the love of God is 


iS2 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


able to accomplish what death does, that is to say, 
to detach us from creatures and from ourselves. 
Nevertheless, those longings which we feel to co- 
operate in the salvation of the infidel are not always 
sure signs of that purified love. Sometimes there 
may be a little self-love and self-seeking, if we con- 
sider only the good and the satisfaction there is of 
sending souls to heaven, without fully weighing the 
toil and difficulties inseparable from those evangel- 
ical undertakings. 

“ In order that no person may be deceived in 
this matter, I will show him how much it behooves 
him to suffer for the name of Jesus. 

“ I am pleased to say that Father Le Mercier and 
Pi j art, the last two missioners to arrive, had not 
quite so much to suffer on their journey here as we 
had. They did none of the paddling, their com- 
panions did not fall sick as ours did, nor did they 
have to carry any of the heavy loads. But not- 
withstanding all this and however much this 
journey with the Indians may be lightened, there is 
always enough hardship in it to discourage the 
bravest soul unless it be completely mortified. The 
Indian’s alertness can neither shorten the route, 
level the rocks, nor avert danger. It makes no 
difference with whom you undertake the journey, 
you must expect to be at least three or four weeks 
on the road, to have for companions people whom 
you have never seen before, to sit in a bark canoe 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


153 


in a very uncomfortable position without the liberty 
of changing from side to side, to be in danger fifty 
times a day of being upset or dashed upon the 
rocks. During the day you are scorched by the 
sun, while at night you are a victim to the mosqui- 
toes. Sometimes you may have to breast five or 
six rapids in one day, and in the evening your only 
refreshment will be a little corn which has been 
crushed between two stones and boiled in water. 
Your bed may be the ground, but more frequently it 
is the rugged rocks, and your only shelter the starry 
heavens. And all this must be gone through in un- 
broken silence. Should you hurt yourself or fall 
sick, do not expect the least assistance from these 
barbarians. If your sickness be dangerous, and 
you happen to be a great distance from the villages, 
which are quite far apart, I cannot promise you that, 
if you are unable to follow them, they will not de- 
sert you. 

“ Once you have reached the Huron Mission, we 
shall receive you with open arms, as if you were 
angels from heaven, and we shall be most willing to 
make you comfortable, but I fear that it will be al- 
most impossible to do so. The hut to which we 
shall welcome you is so wretched that I know of 
none like it in France. This is how you will be 
sheltered. 

“ Tired and way-worn, as you undoubtedly will 
be, the only bed we shall have to offer you will be 


154 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


a rush-mat. You will reach here at a time when 
those little pests, which we call tashac here, but fleas 
in the mother-tongue, will keep you awake nearly 
all night long, for they are far more troublesome 
here than in France. The dust of our huts feeds 
them, the Indians bring them to us, and we carry 
them in our clothing from their homes. This 
minor martyrdom, not to speak of the mosquitoes 
and other insects of that class, usually lasts the 
three or four months of summer. 

“ However great a teacher and theologian you 
may have been in France, here you shall have to 
become a school-boy once more and be pupil of such 
strange masters — of women, little children and all 
the Indians, who will subject you to their ridicule 
— and it will be very surprising if, at the end of 
several months, you are able to stammer a few 
words. 

“ And how will you stand the winter here ? Our 
hut is made of bark, but so closely put together 
that we are obliged to go out of doors to know 
what the weather is. The smoke is often so thick, 
pungent and persistent that for four or five days at 
a time, unless you are quite proof against it, you 
can barely make out a few lines in your breviary. 
Then, our fireside is besieged by Indians from 
morning till night 

“ So far everything has been comparatively easy ; 
but in the future when we shall have Christians in 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


155 


nearly every village, we shall be obliged to visit 
them and remain there for weeks at a time amid 
the most unheard of inconveniences. 

“ Add to all this, the fact that our lives are in con- 
stant danger, for besides the dread of your cabin 
(which is like tinder) taking fire, in spite of the 
many precautions you take to avert such a calamity, 
the malice of the Indians keeps you in constant fear 
on that score. A malcontent may either split your 
head open or roast you at a stake in some lonely 
place. You are held responsible for the sterility of 
the ground, for the many droughts, and if you can- 
not bring down rain, they decide to get rid of you. 

“ I have still to speak of the danger from the 
enemy. The Iroquois are found in ambush in the 
fields. The Hurons are very cowardly, they are 
seldom if ever ready for war, and they do not 
trouble themselves to surround their villages with 
palisades. They usually seek safety in flight. In 
those general disturbances of the country, you will 
see how very necessary it is for us to look out for 
our own safety. 

“ But what would all this matter, if, in our com- 
fortless lives, we could at least have the externals 
of piety, as they exist in France. There, the vast 
crowds and the good example of Catholics, as well 
as the magnificence and beauty of the churches, 
preach devotion. Moreover, you have the consola- 
tion of saying your Mass every day. Here, we 


156 THE MASTER MOTIVE 

have no incentives to devotion. We are among 
people who are surprised if you speak to them of 
God, who blaspheme horribly and almost contin- 
ually. Frequently, you will be obliged to deprive 
yourselves of saying Mass, and, when you have 
everything necessary to do so, a corner of your hut 
will have to serve for a chapel, and the smoke, 
snow or rain will hinder you from beautifying it, 
even if you had wherewith to do it. Now, I think 
I have told you quite enough, the rest must be 
learned by experienced 


CHAPTER XXVI 


The refectory of Our Lady of the Angels had 
been divided into four rooms: two small square 
ones — six by six — and two a little larger, which 
contained two beds each. Charles Gamier and his 
travelling companion, Pierre Chastellain, occupied 
one of the latter. These young religious had just 
been selected for the Huron mission, and on the 
30th of June, they were to be seen in their room, 
busily engaged in preparing their packs. 

“ In order to win the Indian children's affection 
we are, it appears, to take them sugar and raisins," 
said Pierre Chastellain. “ The little ones dearly 
love sugar, which they call the ‘ Snow of France.' " 

Charles Gamier smiled. 

“If we are to tame the Indian children with 
sugar — surely this will secure us the good will of 
our guides," he said, as he lifted a rather heavy 
parcel from his bed. 

Upon opening it he found that it contained 
colored glass beads, awls, fish-hooks and several 
dozens of pocket-knives. 

“ This is the coin of the country. This is what 
buys the fish with which we regale the Indians 
throughout the journey." 


157 


'THE MASTER MOTIVE 


158 

After Father Chastellain had taken his share; the 
two young missionaries continued helping one an- 
other to tie up their packages and to make them as 
portable as possible. When the last parcel was 
done up, Pierre Chastellain left the room, and 
Charles Gamier taking a manuscript from beneath 
his pillows approached the window. 

The manuscript, which was in Father Brebeufs 
handwriting, was entitled: 

Instructions for the Fathers of our Society 

WHO MAY BE SENT TO THE HURON MISSION. 

Standing in the narrow window Charles Gamier 
remained for a few moments looking at the beauti- 
ful river and the peaceful landscape which he al- 
ready loved and which, after the following day, he 
would never see again. Then, opening his paper, 
he read the following: 

“ The Fathers whom God will call to the holy 
mission among the Hurons should gently strive to 
foresee the trials and dangers which must be en- 
countered on the journey, in order to be well pre- 
pared for the many accidents which may occur. 

“ To learn to sincerely love the Indians, consider 
them as having been redeemed by the Son of God 
and as your future brothers with whom you shall 
have to spend the remainder of your days. 

“ To please the Indians, care must be taken not 
to delay them in their departure and to provide a 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


159 


flint, or burning-glass, or both, in order to make 
them a fire, around which they may sit and smoke 
during the day and in evening, when they must 
pitch camp. These little services win their hearts. 

“ You must force yourselves to eat their saga- 
mites just as they prepare them, although they may 
be unclean, half-cooked and tasteless. As for the 
many other things which may prove disagreeable, 
you must try to bear with them for the love of God, 
without speaking of them or appearing to notice 
them. 

“ It will be well, from the very start to take 
whatever they offer you, even though you cannot 
eat it all, for once you are accustomed to their food 
you will not find it too much. 

“ Try to eat at day-break — that is if you cannot 
take your share with you — for the day is very 
long to spend without eating. When the Indians 
are on a journey, they eat only at sun-rise and sun- 
set. 

“ Be quick in getting in and out of the canoes, 
and tuck up your habits, so as not to wet your- 
selves or carry sand or water into the canoes. Go 
barefooted, if necessary, rather than lag behind. 
When you reach the rapids you can take your shoes 
with you. 

“ Try to avoid giving trouble to any one of the 
savages. 

“ It is not advisable to ask too many questions 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


160 

or to gratify your inclination to learn the language, 
or to make any remarks about the journey. Spare 
your companions this annoyance. 

“ Bear with their imperfections without making 
any remarks — or better, try not to see them. 
Should you be obliged to reprove them for anything, 
do so quietly with words and signs which convey 
love and not anger. In brief, strive always to be 
cheerful. 

“ At the portages, let each one carry something ac- 
cording to his strength — however little you may 
carry, you will always please the Indians by doing 
so. 

“ You must not be ceremonious with them, but ac- 
cept whatever they offer you even if it be the best 
place in their cabins. The greatest conveniences 
are at best but poor comforts, and your formality 
offends them. 

“ Do not make yourselves obnoxious by wearing 
your hats in the canoes. It would be far better for 
you to wear your nightcaps. 

“ The savages have no conception of the proprie- 
ties of life. 

“ Do not begin to do anything which you do not 
wish to continue. For instance, do not begin to 
paddle if you do not intend to keep it up. At the 
outset choose the seat in the canoe which you wish 
to reserve for yourself. Do not lend your clothes 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 161 

to the Indians unless you wish them to keep them 
for the entire journey. 

“ Finally, be assured that the Indians will retain 
at the mission the opinion which they have formed 
of you during the journey, and he whom they 
may have found troublesome or hard to please will 
have some difficulty in dispelling this impression. 
You will have to do not only with the persons of 
your boat — but with, I may add, the whole com- 
munity, who will not fail to inquire what manner of 
man you are. It is incredible how they detect and 
remember your smallest faults. 

“ When you meet an Indian on the way, smile 
pleasantly at him, since you are unable to speak to 
him kindly, and let him see how cheerfully you are 
bearing the fatigues of the journey. You will 
have turned the trials of the trip to good account, 
and made great headway, if you succeeded in win- 
ning the affection of the Indians. 

“ Here are lessons easy enough to learn — but 
very hard to practice/’ 


CHAPTER XXVII 


(Father Gamier to Gisella Meliand.) 

Residence of the Conception, 
Three Rivers, July ioth, 1636. 

Dear Sister , 

I am on my way to the Huron mission, and I 
have permission to write you a few lines. 

Three Rivers, the point where we come to await 
the Indians who have consented to take us back 
with them, and where we bid adieu to civilization, 
is a small trading-post much frequented. About 
two years ago, Monsieur de Champlain sent Mon- 
sieur La Violette to build a fort here. We have a 
house, which is in charge of Fathers Buteux 
and Du Marche. On account of the excessive fear 
which the Iroquois inspire, it appears that very few 
of the Hurons have come down this year. Seven 
have arrived, however, with letters from Father 
Brebeuf. I saw them pitch their tents upon the 
beach. 

On landing, before showing themselves to the 
French, they oiled their hair and painted their bod- 
ies red, blue and black. This strange toilet was 
made among the rushes where they had lodged their 
canoes. 

162 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 163 

A feast was prepared for them, which they en- 
joyed immensely. One of them, the captain of the 
village of Ihonatiria, who had taken Father Le 
Mercier up last year, said he would willingly take 
one of us, if we would furnish him with a canoe. 

The canoe was soon found, and Father Chastel- 
lain was named to go. When the other Indians 
heard that I intended going also, they said we must 
not be separated, and they offered to take me with 
them. Usually it requires quite a lot of coaxing 
and insistence to make them take you. Conse- 
quently Father Lejeune, who had followed us to 
Three Rivers, was very much surprised to hear 
this. I was not, for I had confided everything to 
the Blessed Virgin. 

Once matters were settled, we gave the two cap- 
tains a blanket each, and top-coats to the rest of the 
crew. Peas, bread, and a small quantity of prunes 
are what we are taking to feed ourselves and the 
Indians, who did not make a cache on their down- 
ward journey. 

Gisella, I often ask myself if I am not dreaming 
— if it is really true that I am on my way to St. 
Joseph of Ihonatiria. A joy beyond words fills my 
heart. Ah, but God is admirable in His ways! 
How has it all come about? How did I sever 
every tie that bound me and realize that our 
greatest and truest happiness is in God alone? 

I cannot say. But the light dawned on me 


164 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


slowly and surely like the deepening of evening 
shadows. 

I left Quebec the first of July with Father Chastel- 
lain. In order to impress the Indians more fully 
with the missionaries’ great dignity and import- 
ance, the Governor accompained us to our canoes 
and had three guns fired from the Fort. 

Instinctively I felt I should never see Quebec 
again and this conviction grew stronger as I re- 
ceded from its shores. The thought did not sadden 
me. On the contrary, it was with a sense of deep 
peace that I repeated : “ Voluntas tua, voluptas me a.” 

From Quebec to Three Rivers the solitude is un- 
broken. No houses brighten the shores, nor is a 
single sail to be seen on the bosom of the mighty 
river. 

Sometimes I felt crushed beneath this awful 
scene of isolation, but prayer soon made me strong 
again. 

Dear sister, how I long for you to possess this 
spirit of prayer. Then you will no longer think 
of earthly joys, and the cares and regrets of life 
will rest upon you as lightly as the dead leaves rest 
upon the great St. Lawrence. 

Adieu, Gisella, it is a very sweet and real conso- 
lation for me to have you beside my parents. 

And with my unworthy hand of missioner, I sin- 
cerely bless you. 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 165 

(Father Gamier to Father Lejeune, Superior of 
the Missions in Neiv France.) 

Lake Nipissing, Aug. 8th, 1636. 

May God be blessed forever! We reached 
Nipissing yesterday, so well and happy that I am 
ashamed to speak of it. For had I been sufficiently 
loving and courageous, I am sure that God would 
have given me a small share of His Cross to bear, 
as He did to our Fathers who preceded us here. 
Had He so favored me, I should feel a little more 
humble than I do. 

May God be praised by all His angels. He has 
treated His child like a child. I was not asked to 
paddle. I was only obliged to carry my own bag, 
except the last three days when reaching the por- 
tages, I carried a small bundle which was given me, 
because one of the Indians of our canoe had fallen 
sick. Is this not being treated like a child? And 
the worst of it is that he who complains of having 
very little to suffer, is generally the one who ac- 
cepts reluctantly what God sends. All I can do in 
this matter is to place my poor wretched heart in 
my good Master’s hands and ask you, dear Father, 
to thank the Lord for having given me the hope of 
belonging entirely to Him one day. 

We reached the Island on the evening of the 
feast of St. Ignatius. 

We bought some Indian corn as our peas had 


1 66 THE MASTER MOTIVE 

given out. This corn lasted us until we reached 
here; our Indians had not hidden any anywhere, 
and we found very little fish. 

Adieu, Reverend Father; obtain for me by your 
prayers that I may be what I should be in the land 
whither you have sent me in God’s name. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


Twenty-four days had already passed since the 
missionaries’ departure from Three Rivers. 

Seated with four Indians, Charles Gamier was 
telling his beads. 

His handsome face, burnt by the sun and dis- 
figured by mosquito-bites, showed no signs of de- 
jection. 

He often paused in his prayer and with joyful, 
eager expectancy scanned the solitary shores of the 
great Georgian Bay. 

“ Is that Ihonatiria ? ” he would ask his guides 
from time to time. 

But they, quite impassive, paddled in unbroken 
silence. 

Towards evening, as they were entering a creek, 
Kionche, the captain of the canoe, attracted the at- 
tention of the Jesuit, who was reading his breviary, 
and lifting his paddle, he murmured a few words : 
“ Ihonatiria/’ being the only one which Charles un- 
derstood. 

They had reached the end of their journey. 

Father Gamier looked at the dark forest, the un- 
known shore, the uncouth Indians who surrounded 
him and a mortal sadness suddenly took possession 
167 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


1 68 

of his soul. His thoughts travelled back to his na- 
tive land, to his loving and much beloved family, 
and resting his forehead upon his hands, he saw 
Bois-Belle once more — saw the cheerful fire upon 
its hearth and the joy which always welcomed his 
home-coming. All the love and happiness he had 
sacrificed passed before his closed eyes, and the life 
that awaited him here appeared to him just as it 
truly was, a thousand times more horrible than 
death. 

But the young missionary did not allow himself 
to dwell too long upon either the vision of enerva- 
ing pleasures, or that of appalling horror. 

“ Voluntas tua , voluptas mea ” he murmured as he 
lovingly pressed his crucifix to .his heart. 

Being the first to spring on shore, he knelt and 
kissed the Huron soil, which was to receive the 
sweat of his labors, if not his blood as well. As 
he rose from his knees, a very tall powerfully built 
man, dressed in black, appeared near the outskirts 
of the woods. 

“ Echon,” murmured the Indians. 

“ Father Brebeuf,” Charles Gamier concluded. 
And baring his head, he went towards the Superior 
of the mission, who had come to meet him. 

Brebeuf was deeply impressed by Charles’ youth, 
beauty and noble bearing. 

“ All praise to God!” he said, as he pressed him 
to his heart. 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


169 


For a moment they wept in one another’s em- 
brace, then the Apostle of the Hurons, resting his 
strong hand tenderly upon Charles’ fair head, said : 

“ I am delighted to welcome you here, and my 
wish for you is, that you may spend your life and 
strength in the service of these poor Indians. Are 
you very tired, my son ? ” 

“ Not very,” the young missionary answered 
smiling, through his tears. 

“ The Lord be praised ! You met with good, 
kind Indians, who neither asked you to paddle, nor 
go barefooted. Father Chastellain reached here 
yesterday and gave us all the news. Don’t worry 
about your luggage, for here comes LeCoq, and he 
will carry it for you.” 

Robert LeCoq , 1 a strong young fellow of 
happy, sprightly appearance, belonged to that class 
of unknown heroes who devoted themselves to the 
service of the missioners. 

He saluted Father Gamier, and, drawing a long 
strap from his pocket, he started, with the help of 
the two religious, to tie up the many parcels into 
one. Then he slung the pack across his shoulders 
and disappeared into the woods. 

Charles Gamier had retained his own packet, 
but his Superior requested him to give it up; and 
this bag, which the young missionary had often 
found so heavy at the portages, appeared as thistle- 
1 He perished in 1650, in a skirmish with the Iroquois. 


170 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


down in Father Brebeufs hands. For a few mo- 
ments they walked along the shore, and the tops of 
the giant trees were mirrored in the water at its edge, 
while in the far distance the peaceful lake reflected 
the deep azure of the summer sky. 

“ How beautiful/’ Charles murmured. 

“ The Indians call it Karegnondi,” said Father 
Brebeuf, extending his hand towards the lake, 
“ and Monsieur de Champlain named it, ‘ The Fresh 
Water Sea/ Ihonatiria, a third of a mile from 
here, is a very small village. But it is better for us 
to remain in the background until we have become 
acquainted with the language and customs of the 
Indians.” 

“ It was here, was it not, Father, that you were 
deserted on your arrival two years ago ? ” 

“ The very place. We took thirty days to come 
from Three Rivers, and with the exception of one 
day’s rest among the Nipissings, I paddled the whole 
way up, and so constantly that I was obliged to 
read my breviary at night by the light of the burn- 
ing logs. As a climax, on reaching here, my In- 
dians deserted me at night-fall. Now you are go- 
ing to become acquainted with the roads of this 
country. This is the shortest way home,” said 
Father Brebeuf, as he entered a forest path. 

This path, formerly trodden by the wild deer, 
had been broadened, and the two men were en- 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


171 

abled, by pushing aside the stronger branches here 
and there to walk abreast. 

Above their heads, the forest, ancient as the 
world itself, stretched its shady restless dome. 
Full-throated anthems and sleepy twitterings of 
birds, sounds mysterious and enchanting, filled the 
perfumed, throbbing air. 

“ What a delightful road,” exclaimed Charles, 
forgetting his fatigue. 

“ Yes, in warm weather, these green leafy paths 
are very agreeable,” Father Brebeuf answered 
quietly. 

“ What did you do, Father, when you discovered 
you had been deserted ? ” 

“ The locality was not altogether unknown to 
me, but the village of Toanche, where I had lived 
five years before, had entirely disappeared. I ad- 
mit I was a little sad and discouraged, but it was 
momentary. I thanked God for having brought 
me so far. I invoked the Guardian Angels of the 
country ; then, after hiding my luggage, with the 
exception of the sacred vessels, I went in search 
of my Indians.” 

“You can speak the Huron language fluently 
now, I suppose,” Charles Gamier said, a trace of 
envy in his voice. 

“ I understand everything my Indians say to me 
and succeed in making myself understood by them ; 


172 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


even when I am explaining the great mysteries- of 
our religion. My first pupils, Fathers Daniel and 
Davost, are able to stammer a few words now. We 
have worked hard and are still working indefati- 
gably.” 

“ The difficulties of the language are very great, 
are they not ? ” 

“ Almost endless. But the knowledge of the 
language is our greatest weapon of defense with the 
Indians. We have outlined a dictionary; now we 
are trying to compile a grammar ; but we are obliged 
to use birch-bark for our work.” 

“ Have you no paper ?” Charles Gamier asked, 
in surprise. 

“ Yes, but very little, most of our paper and 
books were in Father Davost’s pack. The In- 
dians, after stealing quite a lot of it, obliged him 
to throw the remainder into the water. Finally, 
they deserted him on Allumette Island, where he 
was found half dead. But thanks to Almighty God 
no one perished. ,, 

“ Now I see that I had the pick of the Hurons,” 
remarked Charles Gamier. “ And yet, how often 
I had to overcome myself to appear pleased with 
them.” 

“ Poor Indians,” said Father Brebeuf tenderly, 
“ their uncouthness and filth are a source of un- 
ending suffering and embarrassment to us. We 
have none of the comforts of life, and our priva- 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


173 


tions are beyond the imagination of man to con- 
ceive. On my way here, I met Father Daniel; he 
was barefooted like his Indians, he carried his pad- 
dle in his hand; his breviary hung suspended by a 
cord around his neck; his shirt was filthy, and the 
cassock on his back was in tatters. He looked the 
personification of misery and fatigue; and yet he 
was so happy, and hopeful that I could not help 
envying him." 

A smile of ineffable sweetness illumined Father 
Brebeuf’s strong face. 

“ This is how God Almighty rewards those who 
have relinquished everything for His sake," he re- 
marked, in an almost inaudible voice ; “ no one can 
understand it who has not experienced it ; and what 
we feel when we have baptized a person who dies 
almost immediately and goes straight to heaven, is 
a joy which few can comprehend." 

Charles Gamier, who was listening with great 
attention, appeared deeply impressed. 

“ Do the Hurons show any signs of conversion ? ” 
he asked. 

“ They admit that God's laws are beautiful and 
reasonable. But they hold fast to their supersti- 
tions and infamous customs. To see them delib- 
erately closing their eyes to the light of Faith, is our 
supreme suffering. But we must be content to 
await God's good time," he continued, resignedly. 
“We must be satisfied to do nothing after having 


174 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


done everything. It is on such foundations that 
God wishes to build His Church. Moreover, bar- 
ren as the soil is, the seed of eternal life never 
perishes completely. We have instructed and bap- 
tized several adults on their deathbeds; very few 
infants die without baptism; but we must face a 
thousand insults and outrages to do so, and our 
heads must be ready to receive the axe’s blow, as 
often as there are hours in the day.” 

“ Even that is not enough,” exclaimed Charles 
Gamier, “ we should be ready to suffer the worst 
cruelty an Indian can conceive.” 

“ That is saying a great deal,” answered Father 
Brebeuf calmly. “ Last year we greatly feared an 
invasion from the Iroquois. Our poor Hurons can 
neither get ready for war, nor defend themselves. 
Therefore we had to be prepared for death each 
day, or to be dragged into captivity.” 

Charles Gamier looked at his Superior with lov- 
ing admiration. 

“ Surely, Father,” he said, “ there will be a few 
martyrs among us. It would be a curse upon the 
country if there were none.” 

“ The blood of martyrs is the seed of Christians,” 
answered Father Brebeuf, who had grown quite 
pensive. “ It is an accepted maxim in God’s 
Church. But very often I ask myself if the life 
we lead here, is not in many ways equal to martyr- 
dom; one sure thing is, we live days and nights, 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


175 

in dread of being burnt to death, or cut down by 
the tomahawk.” 

The young missioner listened to all this with 
unruffled calm. 

As a Protestant author has written , 1 “ Brebeuf 
was the Lion of the Huron mission, and Gamier 
was its Lambs but the lamb was as brave as the 
lion.” 

Ahead of them the forest was becoming less 
dense. 

“ We have reached home,” said Father Brebeuf. 
“ We are at St. Joseph’s of Ihonatiria.” 

Charles Gamier pushed the branches hastily 
aside. 

Before him, in a large clearing, over which the 
golden mists of evening hung, a number of funnel- 
shaped birch huts were to be seen. 

Fields of Indian corn, beans and pumpkins, sur- 
rounded these wretched dwellings. In front of one 
hut, which stood a little apart, a large red cross 
had been erected. 

“ Behold what you came from the other side of 
the world to seek, dear brother,” said the apostle 
of the Huron mission, “ here is the vine laden with 
thorns which our hands must pluck out, and here 
the battle-field where we must fight, even unto 
death, the powers of the Prince of Darkness.” 

Yielding to the same impulse, the two Jesuits 
1 Francis Parkman. 


12 


176 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


knelt and prayed for a few moments, then rising, 
they held one another in a mighty grasp, like war- 
riors pledging themselves to shed their blood in a 
common cause. Then they turned towards the 
opening in the palisade which protected the vil- 
lage. 

Around about, the setting sun had “ fretted with 
golden light ” the undulating forest dome. The 
quiet of evening had fallen upon the village. 

Some men were smoking, lazily stretched upon 
the greensward; others seated in a circle, played 
knuckle-bones. 

Beside the stream which flowed through the vil- 
lage, a few dirty, hideous women were busy drying 
fish. The voices of the children practising shoot- 
ing outside the enclosure were the only sounds that 
broke the ever-deepening silence. No one seemed 
to notice the missioners on their homeward way. 
At the door of one hut, a scalp was hanging, still 
dripping with the warm blood of its owner. 

Charles Gamier turned away his eyes in horror. 
His Superior detecting his action, drew his atten- 
tion to the red cross standing before their hut. 

“ How infinitely consoling it is,” he remarked, 
“ to see this sign of salvation amidst such barbar- 
ism.” 

“ Do the Hurons object to the sight of the 
Cross?” Father Gamier asked, as he lifted his hat 
in respectful homage. 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


177 


“ I had a great deal of trouble to prevent them 
from cutting it down. Last year we were visited 
with a terrible drought; it was really alarming, 
everything was drying up. The Medicine-men, 
who were summoned to make it rain, after having 
dreamed, danced, and feasted in vain, agreed among 
themselves to say that it was the Cross before the 
door of the Frenchman’s hut that kept the rain from 
falling. The Indians were determined to cut it 
down. I said to the Chiefs: 

“ ‘ 1 cannot prevent you from cutting down the 
cross, but I shall never give my consent to your 
doing so/ I recalled to them the number of times 
it had rained since the cross was erected, and I 
urged them to come in a body, men and women, 
and ask God to send them rain. They saw them- 
selves reduced to famine, so they did as I had re- 
quested. That very day, rain fell in abundance, 
and their delight was unbounded. They all came, 
one after another, to tell me how good God is, and 
they heaped abuse upon their medicine-men/’ 

As the two religious were passing one of the huts, 
a little lad between five and six years old, ran out 
to kiss Father Brebeuf’s beads. 

“ This is the first child I baptized among the 
Hurons,” said the missionary, as he lifted him in 
his arms. “ Isn’t he a fine little fellow. He was 
almost dead when I baptized him.” 

Father Brebeuf spoke a few words in Huron to 


178 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


him and the child answered by making the sign of 
the Cross. Father Gamier was so charmed that 
forgetting the child’s filth, he began fondling it 
tenderly. 

“ Look,” said Father Brebeuf, “ here are your 
brothers-in-arms coming to meet you.” 

And sure enough, Frangois Le Mercier, Pierre 
Pijart and Pierre Chastellain, their faces beaming 
with joy, were running to greet him. 

They threw their arms about Charles’ neck, and 
rivalled one another in the warmth of their wel- 
come. 

“ Come, come,” said Father Brebeuf, cutting 
short their effusions, “ Father Gamier is dying of 
fatigue and hunger. Give him a chance to enjoy 
the hospitality of our house.” 

“ Everything is ready,” answered Father Le 
Mercier, “ Father Chastellain took us by, surprise, 
but we were expecting you, dear brother, and we 
have prepared a feast for you. How do you like 
our house ? ” 

The house was built of bark and measured thirty- 
five feet long by twenty wide, its one and only win- 
dow was a hole in the roof, through which the 
smoke escaped. 

“ It does not resemble Bois-Belle very much,” 
said Father Brebeuf gaily, as he opened the door; 
“ but believe me, the more you have given up, the 
more grateful you will be to God.” 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


179 


The cabin was divided into three apartments. 

The first, which served as a waiting-room, con- 
tained their store of Indian corn and dried fish. 

The religious occupied the second one, which 
was much longer, but which was devoid of table 
or chairs. Along the walls, shelves containing 
the missionaries’ clothing, books, etc., were to be 
seen. 

The fire was lighted in the center of this room. 

The Jesuits passed into the third, which had 
been made into a chapel, to recite the Te Deum. 
Meanwhile, Father Le Mercier who had remained 
behind, spread in one corner a rush mat, on which 
he placed a wooden plate, and a small bark drink- 
ing-cup. Scattering the hot ashes, he drew forth 
a small loaf of Indian corn bread, which he proudly 
placed on the mat, with a dish of sagamite / some 
raspberries and blue-berries hidden in large maple 
leaves. Then he ran to get water from the spring 
that flowed near by, and when the Fathers came 
out of the chapel, a few moments later, they found 
him upon his knees before the bright coals, busily 
toasting slices of pumpkin and ears of corn. 

Charles Gamier was so delighted to be with his 
brothers in religion once more, that he could not 
find words to express his joy. 

“ Come and have something to eat, my son,” 

1 Porridge made of Indian corn meal, and water, seasoned 
with powdered smoked fish. 


i8o 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


said Father Brebeuf, as he led him towards the 
mat. 

The young missionary sat down on the ground, 
and dipped his wooden spoon into the dish of saga- 
mite. 

“ How good it is — and how delightfully clean 
everything is,” he exclaimed, lifting his weary, but 
happy face towards his brothers. “ I am very 
hungry.” 

“ You must be in great need of sleep too,” said 
Father Chastellain, “ I assure you I was completely 
exhausted yesterday.” 

“ Your bedroom is ready,” said Frangois Le Mer- 
cier, as he showed him a sort of niche, under the 
shelf, in which a rush mat, and a blanket were 
spread. 

“ The Indians sleep around the fire,” added 
Father Brebeuf, “ but we have found means to have 
alcoves private.” 

And these brave intruders into Satan’s kingdom, 
all burst out laughing. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


( Father Gamier to Gisella Meliand.) 

St. Joseph of Ihonatiria, June, 1637. 
Dear Sister } — 

I have already spent nine months with the In- 
dians. Our sufferings are truly great. But you 
must not pity me too much. There is no reason 
why you should, for I can assure you that in spite 
of hunger, cold and our inconceivable inconven- 
iences, I have experienced more happiness here in 
one day than I should have elsewhere all my life 
long. Believe me, the fewer human consolations 
we have, the more God takes possession of our 
hearts, and makes us feel how much His love ex- 
ceeds all the imaginable sweetness which is to be 
found in creatures. Ah ! Gisella, what a grace 
God bestowed on me in calling me to the Aposto- 
late, and in choosing me in preference to so many 
others to come here, and carry His Cross. 

I arrived here on the 13th of August in the even- 
ing. Father Brebeuf came as far as my canoe to 
meet me, and I acknowledge I was greatly affected 
on seeing him. 

Everything about him speaks so eloquently of his 
181 


1 82 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


great, holy and voluntary poverty. He has aged 
a good deal. His powerful shoulders are somewhat 
bent. It is evident he has met with countless and 
formidable obstacles, and that he has carried in the 
wilderness the heavy cross of God’s love. 

And how describe to you my delight when I 
learned that I had reached the end of my journey, 
and how glad I was when I emerged from the dark 
forest, and saw the bark roof of Ihonatiria, and the 
large red cross standing before our cabin door. 

You know the kind of huts the Hurons live in. 
Externally our cabin is exactly like all the others, 
but we have made a few improvements in the in- 
terior which have excited the admiration of all the 
country. For instance, instead of the skin or sheet 
of bark which the Indians use at the opening of 
their huts, we have a polished wooden door, and 
partitions divide the cabin into three rooms. 

The first one is store and waiting-room combined. 
We occupy the second, and its furniture consists 
of a few stumps disguised as seats, a hand-mill, a 
mortar for crushing Indian corn, and a clock. The 
Indians all wish to turn the handle of the mill. 
The clock has awakened the curiosity of the entire 
neighborhood. The natives look on it as a living, 
marvellous being. They call it the captain of the 
day. On their arrival they never fail to ask how 
often it has spoken. The third room serves as a 
chapel. Two pictures, one of the Blessed Virgin, 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 183 

and one of Saint Joseph, decorate its bark walls, 
and notwithstanding that it is ventilated by count- 
less crevices, it, like the rest of the cabin, smells 
horribly of smoke. 

We live just like the Indians. Our beds con- 
sist of a sheet of bark and a blanket stretched upon 
the floor. We never think of making use of sheets, 
not even for our sick. Our daily food is Indian 
corn, crushed and boiled in water. In winter we 
are obliged to read our breviaries, to study, and 
perform every other occupation by the light of the 
fire. Our greatest inconvenience is certainly the 
smoke. When the wind blows in a certain direc- 
tion, it is impossible to stand it, it makes our eyes 
so sore and painful. But in spite of our many 
drawbacks, we manage to follow as closely as pos- 
sible the regular community life. 

We rise at four o'clock, make our meditation and 
say Mass. Then follow our spiritual reading, and 
recitation of the Little Hours ; it is the only 
free time we have during the day for our devo- 
tions. 

After breakfast, which is at eight o'clock, we are 
ready to receive the Indians. The Fathers who are 
not on home duty go and visit the huts, while those 
who are, teach catechism to the children and cat- 
echumens, keeping a strict watch at the same time 
on their visitors, to prevent them from carrying 
off everything. 


184 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


Between lessons, the Indians sit on their heels 
around the fire smoking* their calumets. 

At two o’clock we have daily examination of 
conscience — which is followed by dinner. Grace 
before and after meals is said in Huron, on account 
of the Indians who are present. 

At four or five o’clock, according to the season 
of the year, the Indians are dismissed. We recite 
Matins and Lauds, then hold conferences concern- 
ing the progress of the Faith, and the Huron lan- 
guage. 

Each one states anything new he may have re- 
marked in the manner of expressing oneself, and 
by putting together what each one has remembered, 
we try to acquire the genius of the Huron language, 
which is a very beautiful, rich, but peculiar one, 
having, as it were, verbs as its principal elements. 

We have supper at half past six, and the evening 
is spent in chatting about mission interests, in read- 
ing and study. 

As I have already told you, all this must be 
done by the light of the fire. Our studies are fre- 
quently interrupted by the sound of the Chichikoue, 
by dancing and revelry. 

We end our day by reading the litanies. 

We are six missionaries, all in good health, in 
spite of the privations and fatigues, and our fa- 
tigues are great, for since last Autumn a pestilential 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 185 

sickness has been making sad ravages among the 
Hurons. 

Father Jogues was one of the first attacked by 
it, on his arrival last September. 

I had begun my annual retreat, but I interrupted 
it to nurse him, and contracted his sickness. 

Our cabin soon became a veritable hospital; but 
by God’s mercy there was always one of us well 
enough to nurse the sick. 

Father Le Mercier had the water to carry, the 
wood to split, and the kitchen to look after, in ad- 
dition to his usual duties of infirmarian. His 
broths were a source of infinite worry to him, for 
game is very scarce out here. Not being able to 
secure any at first, he made us a beverage of wild 
purslane. 

Frangois Petitpre, the only lay-brother who did 
not succumb to the sickness, spent his days and 
nights in the woods seeking game. 

We are all perfectly well again. 

Unfortunately, we cannot make the Indians take 
any precautions. Almost all their sick died, and 
the contagion is spreading daily. The Hurons at- 
tribute sickness to three causes : to natural causes ; 
to the souls of the deceased, who desire something, 
and to witchcraft especially. 

A famous magician, who had offered to breathe 
upon us when we were sick, was so enraged at our 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


1 86 

refusing to allow him to do so, that he reported 
everywhere that we were the cause of the pestilence, 
and that we were casting spells. Moreover, the 
Indians who have returned from Manhattan, where 
the Dutch are settled, say that the Dutch told them 
to mistrust the Jesuits. “ The countries where the 
Black-robes settle,” they said, “ are soon ruined, 
and depopulated.” 

They are in a state of great excitement. They 
think we foster the disease in our dwelling like a 
domestic animal, and this is only one among their 
many thousand absurd beliefs. 

God alone knows what the result of this will be. 
We leave all to His adorable will, without a shadow 
of fear or uneasiness. 

No matter what happens, Gisella, I am where God 
wishes me to be, and I seek Him alone. Ecstatic 
joy dwells in this thought. 

Farewell, dear sister; be happy and pray. 


CHAPTER XXX 


(Father Gamier to Gisella Meliand.) 

From Our Residence of the Conception, 
Ossossane, May, 1638. 

Those who preach the religion of the Crucified 
must expect crosses of all descriptions. We expe- 
rience this truth daily, dear sister, and this year has 
been a particularly hard one for us. 

In my last letter, I told you that an epidemic was 
devastating the country. This malady, hitherto 
unknown, has spread everywhere. It has wiped 
out entire villages, amongst others, Ihonatiria,. 
where we used to live, and our Hurons are con- 
vinced that the Black-robes are responsible for all 
their ill luck. 

These poor savages! The most intelligent of 
them cannot understand the motive which made us 
leave France, to come and settle among them. 
They see we do not seek any particular gain, and 
that we exhaust ourselves in labor and fatigue. 
Realizing that we must have some great object in 
view, they concluded that we desired to take posses- 
sion of their, country, after having caused their 
death. 


187 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


1 88 

In all the villages they lighted the council fires* 
in order to decide the best means to get rid of the 
Black-robes. 

A few of the Fathers appeared at one of these 
solemn assemblies. 

It was eight o’clock in the evening. The Chiefs 
of the three Huron tribes had been convened. Sad 
and silent, they sat on each side of the cabin lighted 
by the council fire. The spectacle was truly dis- 
mal. 

After the profound silence prescribed by the cere- 
monial, each chief rose in his turn, and denounced 
us, and with heart-breaking sighs, counted out his 
sick and dead. 

Father Brebeuf asked permission to speak, and 
he addressed the assembly in that confident way of 
his, which always commands a hearing. He had 
no difficulty in refuting the accusations by reason- 
ings which no person could answer. But still the 
chiefs kept urging us to produce the bewitched stuff. 
As we were leaving the council, a tall athletic In- 
dian dropped, felled by the blow of a hatchet. 

“ Was that blow meant for me?” Father Bre- 
beuf asked, for he thought that owing to the obscur- 
ity, the savage had made a mistake. 

“ No,” the savage answered, “ thou mayst pass ; 
he was a sorcerer, but thou art not.” 

In a country where everyone has the right to get 
rid of sorcerers, it is miraculous we have not been 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


189 


murdered long ago. True, our cabin has been set 
on fire ; they have rushed in on us, hatchet in hand, 
to cut us to pieces ; they have showered brutal blows 
on one of our Fathers to hinder him from adminis- 
tering baptism ; and several times in their public as- 
semblies they have decided on our death ; but 
thank God, we are all living, and in the best of 
health. 

Despite their threats, and rebuffs, we still con- 
tinue to visit the huts. 

Usually each hut contains five or six fires, and 
two families sit around each one. Seen through 
the dense smoke and fitful firelight, these hideous 
sick savages give us a faint idea of demons. Alas ! 
very often these unfortunates refuse to listen to 
us. Some even wrap up their faces so as not to 
see us, and others accuse us, to our faces, of being 
the cause of all their sufferings. 

Regular help has been organized. 

There are some amongst us who have the care of 
forty huts or more, and to discharge our duties we 
are obliged to visit them two or three times a day, 
for God has a few chosen ones among these un- 
fortunate savages. 

Not to speak of the dying children, all of whom 
we manage to baptize, it often happens that some 
sick person has his eyes opened to the light of Faith. 
Oh, Gisella, what happiness there is in baptizing 
him and seeing him die! Have you ever thought 


190 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


of the astonishment, the overwhelming joy, of a 
poor savage who passes from the depths of misery 
to the splendors of heaven? 

After seeing one of those happy elect die, and on 
emerging from the smoky hovel which it was im- 
possible to enter without being covered with filth 
and soot, I have often stopped, overcome with joy, 
to contemplate heaven. The thought of the eternal 
happiness which we are the means of securing for 
these poor savages, compensates for all our fatigues 
and sufferings. 

Would to God that by suffering a thousand times 
more, we could save them all. For us who know 
the great value of souls, the most exquisite anguish 
and the keenest pain is to see them deliberately 
damning themselves. The conversion of the 
Hurons presents very formidable obstacles. It 
is only after the expenditure of much time and 
patience, that we succeed in making them accept the 
sweet teachings of the Gospel, — but we are all full 
of courage. As Father Superior says, “ Before we 
finish, we must begin.” 

Fathers Brebeuf, Le Mercier and Ragueneau are 
here with me. The others have gone to St. Joseph 
of Teanaostaiae, a very large village. 

Ossossane is a much larger and far more im- 
portant village than Ihonatiria. In some respects 
it resembles a capital, for the treaties of the country 
are concluded here. The Feast of the Dead, the 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


191 

nation’s most solemn feast, is celebrated here every 
tenth year. 

Ossossane, which the French have named La 
Rochelle, occupies a very pretty site. The forest 
of pine and fir trees which surrounds it slopes down 
to the edge of the lake. On a slight promontory, at 
a gun-shot from the village, the chapel dedicated to 
our Immaculate Mother, stands. For here, be- 
side our bark cabin, we have what you might call 
a real chapel, built of boards, and erected by work- 
men from Quebec. It measures thirty feet in 
length, sixteen in width, and twenty-four in height, 
and is very pleasing in appearance. 

We now number here about sixty Christians. 
On Sunday morning, in the severest weather even, 
they are seen arriving half-clad. In order that they 
may not suffer too much from the cold, we have 
large pots filled with hot coals brought into the 
church. It is gratifying to see them kneel down, 
although they do so in a most awkward way, 
and say their prayers aloud with our workmen be- 
fore the Blessed Sacrament, and receive Holy Com- 
munion. Tears of joy and gratitude often fill my 
eyes. The Apostolate is heaven anticipated. Do 
not pity me too much. The condition of the mis- 
sionaries is above and beyond that of the Blessed. 
Believe me, the harmonies of heaven are not so 
sweet to the ear as the voice of a poor Indian who 
says, “ I believe in God, the Father Almighty.” 


CHAPTER XXXI 


During the summer of 1639, Charles Gamier got 
news of his father's death. 

Among the many letters which he received from 
his family at that time, his mother's was especially 
comforting. 

“ My dear Son," she wrote, “ You were your 
father's greatest consolation at the hour of his 
death. The thought of what you are suffering to 
make the name of God known, filled him with joy 
and hope. He said : ‘ Our Lord would have pity 

on him for your sake,' and unceasingly he returned 
thanks to God for having given him the strength 
to allow you to follow your vocation. ‘ You will 
find,' he would often remark to me, ‘ that the more 
a sacrifice has cost you, the more consolation it will 
give you at the hour of death.’ 

“ I believe it, dear child, and each day, I shall 
repeat these words, kneeling beside the bed where 
he died. 

“ Your brothers are very kind, doing all they 
can for me; but if I did not have Gisella with me, 
I should be greatly to be pitied. It is impossible 
for me to tell you what she has been to your father 
and what she is to me. 


192 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


193 


“ No daughter has ever been more attentive or 
afforded more delight to her parents. 

“ Since your departure, she has seldom mixed 
in society. It was her wish to devote herself en- 
tirely to us and she has done so. 

“ Your father loved her with unbounded love. 

“ Her singing gave him much pleasure. Dur- 
ing his last sickness, he could bear only sweet low 
music, but he longed for it, and often begged Gisella 
to sing for him. And in that chamber of death, 
her soft-toned voice possessed a peculiar sweetness. 
Now she sings for me, and listening to her my 
tears are far less bitter. Sometimes I think you 
left her a little of your lively faith. I marvel at 
the great uplifting of her spirit. 

“ ‘ Are we not blessed in having been permitted to 
sacrifice to God one whom we loved a thousand 
times more than ourselves ? ’ she often asks. 

“ Yes, I know I am a fortunate mother, but I 
grow very sad at the thought of never seeing you 
again. My dear child, you who are my cross and 
my crown, pray for your poor mother.” 


CHAPTER XXXII 


It is particularly in the terrible missions of Can- 
ada, Chateaubriand has said, that the intrepidity 
of Christ’s Apostles has been manifested in all its 
glory. We can assert without fear, that, even in 
the records of heroism and sanctity, there is noth- 
ing more wonderful than the bloody tale of the 
Huron missions. Never were more horrible dan- 
gers faced, or greater sufferings endured in order 
to sow the seeds of eternal life in the kingdom of 
death. As Father Gamier has written, the con- 
version of the Hurons which presented formidable 
obstacles even in the beginning, was rendered far 
more difficult by the epidemics which followed 
shortly after the Jesuits had settled in the country. 
These epidemics lasted for years, spreading sorrow 
and want everywhere, and causing the savages to 
hold the Faith in horror, and the missionaries in 
execration. But the Jesuits’ invincible constancy, 
their patience under every trial, their contempt of 
death, finally won them the Indians’ respect. The 
Hurons were beginning to have their eyes opened 
to the light of the Gospel, and many notable con- 
versions were being made among them. 

194 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


195 


Nevertheless, in the inscrutable decrees of divine 
Providence, this nation, the first to embrace the 
Faith, was doomed to become almost extinct. Un- 
til then, the Iroquois had fought the Hurons in 
ambush only; but seeing them so greatly decreased 
in number by sickness, they resolved to exter- 
minate them. Their frequent and terrifying inva- 
sions soon filled every heart with fear. Throughout 
the horrors of this war, the most cruel on record, 
the missionaries continued their work. Sharing 
all their sufferings and dangers, they assisted the 
agonizing struggles of this unfortunate tribe, who 
had no hope but in them, and, as Mr. Parkman 
remarks, not a word or a line is met with, which 
might lead us to suspect that the Jesuits had deserted 
their posts, or forsaken their people. 

Among these soldiers of Christ, Charles Gamier 
was one of the bravest, and his personal appearance 
lent a brightness and charm to his ministry to 
which the Indians themselves were not insensible. 

“ Indefatigable worker,” said the Superior of the 
Huron missions, in the Relations — “ he possessed 
all the gifts of nature and grace which constitute 
a thorough missionary. 

“ He spoke the Indian language so well that the 
natives themselves admired his fluency. He held 
loving sway over their hearts, and by his power- 
ful eloquence he attracted them all. His counte- 
nance, his eyes, his very laugh and every movement 


196 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


bespoke his great sanctity. I know of several who 
were converted solely by the expression of his an- 
gelic face, which inspired devotion and sentiments 
of purity in all who came in contact with him, 
whether he was engaged in prayer, in recollection 
after dealings with his neighbor, in speaking of God, 
or even when charity drew him into conversations 
which afforded him a little relaxation of mind. 
The love of God reigned in his heart, and inspired 
all his actions and sanctified them. 

“ He possessed all the virtues of our greatest 
saints. . . . 

“ During the epidemics, when the Indians had 
closed their doors against us, and when there was 
no thought but our massacre, he not only went reso- 
lutely wherever there was a soul to be saved, but 
by the excess of his zeal and ingenuity of his char- 
ity, he found means to open up ways which had 
been closed to him, having recourse to force when 
necessary. 

“ His greatest pleasure was to assist the most for- 
lorn; it made no difference to him, how ill-tem- 
pered, mean or insolent some might be, he felt 
the same tender yearning for all, never omitting 
even one act of corporal mercy. He was seen to 
dress ulcers which were so disgusting and emitted 
such offensive odors, that even the sick man’s near- 
est of kin, could not tolerate them. He washed 
and dressed wounds daily for months, although he 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


197 


was sure they were incurable: he would take the 
sick on his shoulders, and carry them two or three 
miles, in order to win their love, and get the op- 
portunity to baptize them. He would travel ten 
or twenty miles a day in the hottest weather, and 
over roads made dangerous by the frequent incur- 
sions of the Iroquois. He would run breathlessly 
after an Indian guide, to go and baptize some dying 
person, or some prisoner of war who was to be 
burnt at the stake that day. Losing his way, he 
passed entire nights in the deep snow and piercing 
cold; even the elements were powerless to check 
his zeal. 

“ His mortification was equal to his love; he 
sought opportunities to exercise it day and night. 
His food was the same as that of the Indians, that 
is to say, a miserable outcast in France could hope 
for better. This last year of famine, acorns and 
bitter roots were delicacies to him ; not that he failed 
to taste their bitterness, but he devoured them with 
avidity, in spite of the fact that he had been the 
petted child of a rich and noble family.” 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


It was the end of February, 1644. Notwith- 
standing the early hour, a select and fashionable 
congregation thronged the beautiful chapel of 
Clermont College. 

It was no special feast, and nothing about the 
church indicated that an unusual ceremony was 
about to take place ; the two lighted tapers and open 
missal, however, showed that the main altar had 
been prepared for Low Mass, and every one present 
knew that the celebrant was to be the hero of the 
day, a Jesuit missionary, a living martyr — the Rev- 
erend Father Jogues, to whom the Pope had given 
permission to celebrate Mass, despite the mutilated 
state of his hands. 

“ Indignum esset Christi martyrum, Christi non 
bibere sanguinem ” — (It would be unbecoming if 
Christ's martyr should not drink Christ’s blood), 
was Pope Urbain VIII’s reply to the Jesuit’s hum- 
ble appeal. 

The touching account of his adventures had 
spread throughout Paris, and when he entered, 
preceded by a single acolyte, the entire congregation 
rose to its feet, moved by a spontaneous feeling of 
respect. 


198 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


199 


The religious mounted the altar steps. His face, 
aged by suffering, reflected the deep joy of his 
heart. 

Since the terrible day when he had delivered 
himself up to the cruelty of the Iroquois, in order to 
help and console those whom they were leading 
away prisoners, it was the first time he had offered 
the sacrifice of the altar. For a few moments he 
stood before the Tabernacle, irrepressible tears of 
loving gratitude chasing themselves down his radi- 
ant face. 

Then, his mind travelling back to Canada, he 
saw once more the poor chapel at Three Rivers, 
where he had said Mass for the last time; he saw 
those who had prayed so fervently about him there : 
Guillaume Couture, Rene Goupil, Paul Ononchara- 
ton, and the noble chief, Eustache Ahatsistari — 
the glory of the Huron mission. 

“ Oh ! My God ! Thou didst will it thus,” he 
murmured, suppressing his tears. 

Joining his poor mutilated hands, he descended 
the altar steps, and in a voice that thrilled many a 
heart, he pronounced aloud the words of the Sign 
of the Cross. The confessor of the Faith had 
read the Gospel and Credo , he was about to begin 
the august Sacrifice. 

At that moment a woman’s voice broke the pro- 
found stillness of the sacred edifice, a voice so 
sweet and clear that the worshippers felt that a 


200 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


breath from God’s throne had passed over them. 

“ Quid retribuam” sang the voice, accompanied 
by the inspired tones of the organ, “ quid retribuam 
Domino pro omnibus quae retribuit mihi? Calicem 
salutaris accipiam et nomen Domini invocabo 
(What shall I render to the Lord, for all the things 
that He hath rendered to me. I will take the chal- 
ice of salvation, and I will call upon the name of 
the Lord.) 

The hymn of thanksgiving prolonged itself in a 
thousand lovely soul-stirring variations, and this 
heavenly singing accompanying the sacrifice offered 
by the martyr, carried the souls of those present 
to the blessed heights where few of us establish 
our dwelling place — radiant summits, where 
passing sorrow appears in the true light, and where 
we feel that the Master has not said in vain: 

“ Blessed are they that suffer. Blessed are they 
that mourn.” 

Mass was over. The multitude had left the 
chapel, carrying away a memory of that hour which 
would be difficult to efface. 

Gisella Meliand came from the back of the organ 
loft where she had hidden from public gaze. Her 
beautiful, serene countenance still shone with in- 
spiration,, and everything about her breathed an 
indescribable peace. She lingered for a few mo- 
ments to gaze into the nave, which a brilliant win- 
ter’s sun had gladdened with its glory. Then she 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


201 


came down the, stairs, crossed the church, and, 
approaching a lady in mourning, who was still 
absorbed in prayer, she knelt beside her. 

Madame Gamier, for it was she, raised her 
head. 

“ Oh, Gisella, how beautifully you sang,” she 
said, as she threw back her veil and revealed a face 
still wet with tears. 

“ Will you come to the parlor with me? ” Gisella 
asked, quietly; “ we shall see Father Jogues. 
Father Superior promised me I could.” 

Madame Gamier rested her head upon her hands 
and remained silent for a few moments, then she 
looked up and answered : 

“ No, I think not. Of course, I should be de- 
lighted to speak to this missionary, who has seen 
Charles, but I do not feel equal to a nearer sight 
of those terrible marks of the Indians’ cruelty. 
You may go, and I will wait for you here.” 

So Gisella went alone to the room where eight 
years before she had said adieu to Charles Gamier, 
and as she entered, she saw him again by the won- 
derful light of memory, just as she had seen him 
for the last time — his hand raised pointing towards 
heaven. 

She seated herself at the small table, where they 
had held their last conversation, and tried to calm 
the sudden emotion which quickened her heart- 
beats. 


202 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


The Superior did not delay; he soon appeared 
with Father Jogues, to whom he introduced Made- 
moiselle Meliand, remarking as he did so that it 
was she who had sung and that she was related to 
Father Gamier. Then bowing he withdrew. 

“ I am deeply grateful to you for singing at my 
Mass,” said the missionary. “ I enjoyed listening 
to you very much, and I shall be pleased to speak 
to you about Father Gamier, who was in perfect 
health when I left him.” 

Father Jogues spoke cheerfully, and his expres- 
sive face reflected the peace of his soul. 

“ When did you last see Father Gamier, 
Father?” 

“ On the second of June, 1642, when I was leav- 
ing Saint Mary's. He came as far as my canoe 
with Father Raymbault 1 who was very ill, and was 
returning to Quebec with me.” 

“ Is Saint Mary's a new mission? ” 

“ Saint Mary's is not a Huron village. It is 
the residence of the missionaries, and of the French, 
the center and the foundation of our missions. It 
is called indifferently, the Fort, the Residence, or 
Saint Mary’s Mission.” 

“ After trying several plans, we came to the con- 
clusion that it would be better to have a house 

1 Father Raymbault died in the month of October, 1642, 
and was buried with Champlain. He was the first to die in 
Canada. 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


203 


independent of the Indian villages — in an isolated 
but central position. Cardinal Richelieu gave a 
considerable sum of money to help us make it a 
fortified post and to keep a few soldiers stationed 
there.” 

“ At Saint Mary’s, Father, are you in safety, and 
have you nothing to fear from the Indians ? ” 

“ We have done all we could to fortify ourselves, 
and the house is comparatively secure. It is built in 
a lovely place on the banks of a beautiful river, 
which flows at that spot from a lake that we have 
named Mud Lake, on account of its marshes. The 
river that crosses it empties into the Fresh Water 
Sea. In countries where there are no roads, these 
waterways are a great advantage.” 

“ Was Father Gamier at Saint Mary’s when you 
left?” 

“ Only temporarily. The missionaries meet 
there several times each year, to confer together 
and to renew their fervor in retreat. It is a great 
consolation to all our Fathers. You cannot im- 
agine how we love this house. All the French 
who are with the Hurons reside there by order of 
the Governor. There are always two or three mis- 
sionaries at Saint Mary’s.” 

“ It would be a great consolation for me to know 
that Father Gamier was always there,” said Gisella. 
“ When you left, Father, was he settled very far 
from the Residence ? ” 


204 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


“ When I left, he had charge of Saint Joseph 
of Teanaostaiae, seven leagues from Saint Mary’s.” 

“ His last letter, which I received nearly five 
years ago, was dated from Ossossane.” 

“ We left Ossossane, in the summer of 1639, or 
rather we were driven out of there,” said the reli- 
gious, with a quiet smile. “ God’s ways are very 
incomprehensible, Mademoiselle Meliand. You 
know the country was devastated by a pestilential 
sickness shortly after our arrival, and we became 
the victims of wicked lies and terrible hatred. That 
epidemic seemed to- have ceased and we breathed 
freely once more. But in the summer of 1639, 
the crews coming up from Quebec brought the 
small-pox with them. The red-skins consider it 
their worst scourge. The Hurons were more than 
ever convinced that we cast spells over the country, 
and they drove us out. Father Brebeuf, whom they 
always considered the greatest sorcerer, was most 
brutally beaten. I know not God’s designs, but it 
is a fact, wherever we set foot, there, sickness and 
death are sure to follow.” 

“ It does seem very strange,” said Gisella. “ Did 
any of the missionaries contract the disease ? ” 

“ No, although constantly with the dying and the 
dead, none of us were attacked. This very visible 
sign of Divine protection only served to confirm the 
Indians in their belief that we were sorcerers. The 
chanting of the litanies, the recitation of the brev- 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


205 


iary, and the Mass, which we celebrated with closed 
doors, appeared to them like black magic. Our 
clock, which was the admiration of the neighbor- 
hood, has become an object of suspicion, and we 
have been obliged to stop it. However, in spite 
of all, the Faith has made some progress and sev- 
eral warriors of renown can be counted among our 
Christians. Eustache Ahatsistari was formerly 
the chief warrior of the Huron tribe.” 

“ Ahatsistari,” Mademoiselle Meliand repeated, 
“ he was one of your companions in captivity ; was 
he not? ” 

“ Yes, but he never believed the calumnies which 
were circulated about us. Father Gamier had in- 
structed him thoroughly; but fearing that he still 
clung to his superstitions, the missionary did not 
dare to confer baptism upon him. ‘ Ah ! ’ he often 
said to Father Gamier, ‘ If you could only see as 
clearly into my heart as the great Master of our 
lives does, you would not refuse to baptize me/ 
He came to Saint Mary’s to plead his cause with 
Father Superior, and he gained his point. I bap- 
tized him on Easter night, 1641. When he heard 
that I was going down to Quebec in spite of the 
great risk, he wished to come with me to protect 
me — ‘ If I should fall into the hands of the Iro- 
quois,’ he said, 4 1 know what awaits me, but be- 
lieve me, I shall never desert you.’ Never was 
promise more faithfully kept,” continued the Jesuit, 


206 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


with deep emotion, “single-handed he fought the 
enemy, then seeing he was about to be captured, 
Ahatsistari dashed into the woods and, with the 
fleetness of a deer, outdistanced his ‘pursuers ; 
perceiving that I had not followed him, he remem- 
bered his promise never to desert me and returned, 
giving himself up to his executioners rather than 
violate it. Be assured, Mademoiselle Meliand, 
among our Indians there are many brave and gen- 
erous souls.” 

“ Ahatsistari had a very cruel death? ” 

Father Jogues closed his eyes as if to shut out 
some horrible vision. It was a few moments be- 
fore he answered : 

“ The Iroquois started by cutting off both his 
thumbs, and through the wound of his left hand, 
they drove a pointed stick up to his elbow. Being 
unable to restrain my tears at seeing him so bru- 
tally tortured, he feared the Iroquois might pos- 
sibly mistake them for signs of weakness, so he 
said with his Indian pride : ‘ If he sheds tears, it 

is because he loves me ; when you tortured him, you 
did not see him weep/ He and his nephew, a 
young man of twenty-five, were burnt alive. Like 
his uncle, Paul Ononcharaton possessed indomita- 
ble strength and generosity of soul. When he saw 
the Iroquois approaching to torture me, he begged 
them to spare me and to spend their cruelty on him 
instead. He and his uncle suffered their horrible 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


207 


death unflinchingly. After his baptism, he fre- 
quently exclaimed : ‘ How happy I shall be in 

heaven ! ’ ” 

Father Jogues’ emotion had communicated itself 
to his listener. 

“ You spent more than a year with the Iroquois, 
did you not ? ” Gisella asked between her sobs. 

“ Yes, but you must not waste your tears on me, 
my child. During my captivity, I baptized seventy 
persons, men, women and children, who' are in 
heaven. God’s elect are to be found everywhere; 
and the missionary is never without some consola- 
tion. Believe me, I should be quite disconsolate 
if I thought I should not return to my Indians. 
God has not deemed me worthy of martyrdom, but 
I am soon to return to my mission; my superiors 
have promised I should.” 

The Jesuit grew silent; he appeared as if gazing 
on that distant land which was to be watered by 
his sweat and blood. 

Gisella broke the silence by saying: 

“ Father, I have a favor to ask of you. Will you 
allow me to see your hands ? ” 

Nothing was more trying to the missionary’s 
humility. He acceded to her wish, however, and 
opening his hands which he had kept closed until 
then, he held them out to her. The right thumb 
alone was intact, but the nail had been torn from it. 
The index finger, crushed as if by human teeth, 


208 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


was twisted out of all shape. It was most repul- 
sive to see what remained of the others, which 
had been either chopped off, or burnt in the calu- 
met. 

„ Gisella’s heart was pierced by a trenchant sword 
of pain at the thought that the beloved friend of 
'her youth might be treated in like manner, and 
she burst into tears. 

“ I beseech you,” said the missionary quite con- 
fused, “ please do not pay any attention to those 
little marks of my sojourn among the Iroquois. 
. . . Let us speak of Father Gamier.” 

“ Is he much altered ? ” she asked, when her 
tears would allow her to speak. 

“ I believe he is, but he appears to be as happy 
as ever. I wish I could tell you adequately all 
I know of his great patience, courage and heavenly 
charity. He is indefatigable in his zeal. I have 
seen him start off in the severest weather and travel 
from village to village. He has fallen into rivers, 
and countless times he has risked falling into the 
hands of the Iroquois. Nothing daunts him. His 
piety is deep and sincere. But his humility, above 
all, rouses my admiration. Notwithstanding his 
being a person of rank, he always considered him- 
self the least amongst us, and when we were to- 
gether on the missions, he always reserved the 
worst of everything for himself and did it in such 
a charming way that he led us to believe that what 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 209 

was most repugnant was what pleased him most. 
. . . He thinks of God alone — works for God 

alone. The hardships he has suffered, and still suf- 
fers, are inconceivable, but be assured, he would not 
exchange his hardships for the joys of heaven, unless 
God willed it.” 

Gisella listened, her face buried in her hands. 
When the religious ceased speaking, she remained 
some moments in this position; then lifting her 
tear-stained face, she said : 

“ Father, listen to me. It was always understood 
that Charles Gamier and I were affianced from our 
very youth. He heard God’s call and abandoned 
me. When he was gone, the world had no more 
joys for me; life has been endlessly wearisome, 
hopelessly void; and were it not for the care I owe 
to his mother, I should have entered the cloister 
long ago. Meanwhile, I try to strengthen my soul 
by constant prayer and the fond hope of our being 
reunited in heaven. But we are so far apart.” 

“ My child,” Father Jogues answered, with in- 
finite tenderness, “ one can attain the highest per- 
fection, while appearing at the same time to be lead- 
ing a most ordinary life.” 

“ I know that, Father, but constant striving be- 
comes so wearisome. Happy are they who can 
soar aloft.” 

“ With the birds,” Father Jogues remarked, with 
a smile, “ the height attained depends as much on 


210 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


their keenness of vision, as upon their strength of 
wing. It is the same with regard to the human 
soul. Give yourself up to the contemplation of 
God’s sovereign and adorable perfections.” 


CHAPTER XXXIV 


All communication ceased between Quebec and 
the Huron mission, after Father Jogues was taken 
prisoner. For three years the missionaries had re- 
ceived no assistance. They were in the direst dis- 
tress, and were it not for the precaution they had 
taken of sowing a little wheat, they would not have 
been able to provide even sacred hosts for Mass. 
The Jesuits had striven hard to assist their breth- 
ren, but Father Bressani, who undertook the task, 
was captured by the Iroquois, dragged into cap- 
tivity and, like Father Jogues, was made to suf- 
fer the most atrocious tortures. 

This news was not long in reaching Quebec, and 
it tended to increase the terror which the Iro- 
quois had already inspired. Nevertheless, Father 
Brebeuf, who had gone down to Quebec in 1641 to 
recuperate, decided to return to his beloved mission, 
accompanied by Fathers Chabanel and Garreau, 
who had just arrived from France. The Governor 
gave them an escort of twenty soldiers, and four 
weeks later, the little fleet of bark canoes could be 
seen gliding along the banks of Lake Huron and 
entering Matchedash Bay. 

The calm waters sparkled in the burning sun, 
211 


212 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


the swallows flew high, not a breeze was stirring, 
and the dark forest bordering the shore was silent 
and motionless beneath the crushing heat. 

“ Well,” said Father Brebeuf, closing his brevi- 
ary and smiling on his companions ; “ God be 
praised we have escaped all danger.” 

“ Yes,” said Robert LeCoq, who commanded the 
canoe, “ once more we have escaped with our 
scalps.” 

He handed his oar to a Huron, wiped his manly 
brow, down which the perspiration was streaming, 
and making a speaking-trumpet of his hands, he 
called to the French who were following: 

“ Patience, we shall soon be at home and have 
some shade.” 

In fact, the leading canoe was quitting the Lake 
for a river that flowed out of the forest. The 
other canoes followed, skirting the bank to avoid 
the current. Trees of a century’s growth were re- 
flected in the water and cast a deep shadow, but on 
those shores which tired eyes scanned anxiously, the 
primeval forest unfolded itself in endless stretches of 
wild vegetation, but nothing indicated the abode of 
man. A sudden slight bend in the river, disclosed 
a vast clearing to the right, on which a large house 
was built; this house, rather strange in appearance, 
was surrounded by a huge palisade of closely- 
driven posts, while a large cross stood at each 
of the four angles. 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


213 


It was the famous Jesuit residence, Saint Mary's 
of the Hurons : the cradle of civilization and of the 
Faith; the beloved home of the missionaries; 
the refuge ever open, where the poor Hurons came 
in quest of food, spiritual guidance, light and conso- 
lation. 

The forest has once more reasserted its right and 
for the past two centuries has taken possession of 
this celebrated spot. The foundations of the walls, 
and traces of the ditches are still to be found among 
the trees and underbrush, but neither the river, nor 
the neighboring villages bear the name of any one 
of those apostolic men, whose memory we like to 
recall, on that soil which they made forever re- 
nowned by their labors. 

It would be impossible to express the travellers' 
joy when they knew they had reached Saint Mary's. 
With the enthusiasm and activity of youth, Father 
Brebeuf sprang on shore and followed by Fathers 
Garreau and Chabanel, climbed the path that leads 
to the fort. 

Father Brebeuf lifted the heavy wooden bar that 
closed the gate in the palisade, and the two new- 
comers were astonished at what met their sight 
. . . What an amount of hard work and good 

will all this meant! 

The stakes of the palisade, which were driven 
deep into the ground, were bound together by 
straps of leather cut from fresh hides, and these 


214 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


straps, dried and shortened by the heat of the sun, 
held the posts as firmly together as if they were 
encircled by iron clasps. Inside, a deep trench and 
a parapet of earth formed a second entrenchment 
which protected several large cabins that served the 
Indians as lodging-places and hospital. 

The fort proper was in the center of this vast en- 
closure. High, forbidding walls, one hundred and 
seventy-five feet long, and ninety feet deep, sur- 
rounded the chapel and dwelling of the mission- 
aries and Frenchmen, without hiding from view the 
belfry and chimney-pots. 

From a small tower built out from one of the 
buttresses, a splendid view of the surrounding 
country was to be had. 

Beside the chapel but outside the walls, the ceme- 
tery stood on a hillock, carefully tended, planted 
with bell-flowers, that waved their blue and red blos- 
soms in the sunshine. 

The remaining land consisted of a few cultivated 
fields. A canal, supplied by the river, flowed by 
the fortress and crossed the enclosure. Three 
small docks had been built for the canoes. 

Father Brebeuf admired and praised what had 
been accomplished during his absence. He knew 
full well what the workingmen lacked in the way of 
tools, and the appalling amount of strenuous labor 
Saint Mary’s fort represented. Following the 
canal bank, he pushed open a door in the wall, and 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


215 


the Jesuits found themselves in front of the house. 
This paradise of the missionaries was a low house, 
one hundred feet long, built of squared trees placed 
one upon the other horizontally. As the religious 
ascended the rude steps leading to the porch, the 
door opened wide, revealing Father Jerome Lale- 
mant, Superior of the Mission, who had hastened 
to give them a loving welcome. 

Inside, several missionaries, transients at Saint 
Mary’s, hastily appeared in the passage, to greet 
the founder of the Huron Mission. Charles Gar- 
nier was among the number. 

Fatigue and privation had undoubtedly left their 
traces upon him. His face was emaciated, his com- 
plexion was of the copper-color which fair people 
acquire when constantly exposed to sun and air ; but 
his expression, which always spoke of an invisible 
world, had grown more heavenly than ever, and 
of all the missionaries present, he was the one who 
impressed the newcomers the most favorably. 

After travelling three hundred leagues in a canoe, 
constantly on the watch and strain for whatever 
might happen, one feels a positive need of sleep, 
but the travellers wished to return thanks to God 
before doing anything else : so they went through 
the house to the church. At Saint Mary’s the win- 
dows of the residence were unglazed, the partitions 
were built of rough boards, the furniture, which con- 
sisted only of what was absolutely necessary, was 


2 16 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


of the roughest kind, but the chapel presented a 
striking contrast to the rest of the house. It was 
very humble, although the natives looked upon it as 
one of the wonders of the world. But it was a 
graceful building, with glazed windows and highly 
polished walls and woodwork, while very pretty 
pictures hung above the different altars. The 
other decorations were according to Indian taste, 
consisting of glass-ware and shockingly vivid 
draperies. 

The religious crossed the aisle, and grouping 
themselves around the altar, they recited the Te 
Deum. 

From the chapel they went to the refectory, 
which soon presented a very strange appearance, 
for, following the old feudal custom of Saint 
Mary’s — the religious, soldiers, workmen, and 
servants all sat at the same table. 

After supper the Jesuits retired in silence. 
Their community room was already in darkness, 
but the flame from the hearth, lighted up distinctly 
a picture which hung upon the wall. It repre- 
sented the Crucifixion and the Superior led Father 
Brebeuf up to it. 

“ Look,” said he with sudden and solemn emo- 
tion, “ this is the only thing that has reached us 
for three years . . ' . When I uncovered it, I 

had the presentiment that we were to go through 
terrible sufferings. I recalled the Cross which ap- 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


217 


peared to you, Father, in 1640, while returning 
from the land of the Iroquois ... a cross 
large enough, you said, to fasten us all upon it.” 

“ So much the better,” joyfully exclaimed all the 
religious who had been listening attentively. John 
Brebeuf smiled. 

“ The Faith is making very consoling progress, 
is it not ? ” he asked. 

“ Astonishing and admirable progress,” the su- 
perior answered, “ it is quite evident that the angels 
are working far harder than we are. God's de- 
signs are far beyond our comprehension, for famine, 
war, and all those evils which seemed most likely to 
endanger Christianity, have only served to establish 
it more firmly. The Faith is respected; we have 
chapels in all our missions; the cemeteries have 
been blessed; crosses have been solemnly and pub- 
licly venerated. Our Christians of long standing 
lead irreproachable lives, and their numbers have 
greatly increased; the infidels, who have been 
humbled by affliction, appear to us to be nearer the 
fold. But we shall speak about all this tomorrow; 
now, you are in need of rest.” 

“ Yes, but before doing so, let me tell you about 
those prodigies of Quebec; I allude to the Ursulines 
and Hospitallers. No: much as the Colony is 
threatened it cannot perish. God would send His 
angels first to protect these heroic and charitable 


women. 


2 18 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


“ I have heard a great deal about Mother Mary of 
the Incarnation," remarked Jerome Lalemant, who 
was destined to become so intimately known to her 
later. “ I wish you could see her at her wooden 
grating teaching the little Indian children. The 
last Mass I said in Quebec was at the Ursulines. 
Their little pupils sing pleasingly and I liked their 
Huron hymns very much; they have composed a 
special one for the missionary about to set out: 

“ ‘ Go forth ; we rejoice that you are going to such 
abandoned places. God grant your head may be 
cleft by a tomahawk's blow.' Then the refrain is 
sung in the missionary's name. 

“ That is not enough, you must be flayed and 
burnt alive : suffer anything a barbarian's cruelty 
can conceive, for the love of God and for the sal- 
vation of the Indians." Father Brebeuf repeated 
these words in a strange, touching tone. 

“ Meanwhile," the Superior said, smiling to hide 
his emotion, “ Come and take some rest." He un- 
fastened an iron gondola-shaped lamp, from the 
mantel, and lighting it ( for darkness fell early upon 
that wall-begirt house), he showed the newcomers 
to their cells. 

A little later Charles Gamier retired to his. The 
silvery light of the moon stealing over the bastions 
filled his poor room with its wondrous light, bring- 
ing into sharp relief the rough black cross sus- 
pended to the partition. 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


219 


He stood before the window. The lattice of 
woven branches which served for glass was open, 
but the Jesuit could only get a glimpse of one cor- 
ner of the blue sky and the light of the soldiers’ 
lamp in the watch-tower. 

Notwithstanding the early hour, the enclosure 
was already buried in deep silence ; everything 
seemed wrapped in sleep, and the soothing sound of 
the flowing river alone reached his ear. A sudden 
sadness fell upon him. As he rested his head upon 
his sunburnt hands and closed his eyes, every word 
in the letters he had received from France came back 
to him. A fearful loneliness weighed upon his soul 
and he felt an unconquerable need of allowing his 
mind to wander back to his native land and to the 
past. But resisting this inclination, he knelt before 
his poor cross and was soon completely absorbed in 
prayer. 


CHAPTER XXXV 


The next day Charles Gamier set out to return 
to his mission, and a few days later he wrote the 
following letter to Mademoiselle Meliand : 

Saint John of Etharita, 

August, 1644. 

Your last package reached me in safety. The 
pretty bell with its silvery tone has taken the place 
of the old kettle that until now had served to an- 
nounce the church services. My Indians hung it 
to an oak tree that overshadows my chapel, and 
then, like children, they must needs ring it, each in 
turn, to see if it would speak as well in their hands 
as in mine. Never had the Petun mountains 
echoed to such sweet music. 

The settlement of Etharita, or Saint John’s mis- 
sion, of which I am now in charge, is near the 
boundary line, some forty miles from Saint Mary’s. 
Father Jogues and I were the first missioners to set 
foot here. That was in November, 1639 (the time 
when defamation of the Black-robes was most vio- 
lent). The children fled before us shrieking of 
pestilence and famine, the dogs set up a howl, the 
doors were slammed in our faces. 


220 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


221 


We spent the winter visiting nine Petun settle- 
ments, and during those long months we never once 
succeeded in securing a cabin corner in which to say 
Mass. Had it not been for God's kind protection, 
we should have been done to death a thousand 
times. 

Now we have a chapel here and a large number 
of Christians. Our holy Faith is making marvel- 
lous headway. Unfortunately, scourges of vari- 
ous kinds are also on the increase. 

After the epidemic, a frightful famine followed, 
and then this horrible war w T hich is beyond the 
powers of imagination to picture. At one time the 
Hurons were great and glorious, but they have 
never learnt the value of union and organization. 
Their improvidence is incredible. A Huron only 
believes in danger when he meets it face to face. 

The Iroquois work together and according to 
premeditated plans; they display inhuman cruelty 
in battle and are as brave as they are cruel ; besides 
they are equipped with excellent weapons. 

The troops raised to drive them from the fron- 
tiers were completely routed — so completely that 
the messengers who bore these sad tidings were 
poor half-burnt wretches who succeeded in break- 
ing their bonds and in escaping from the flames. 

God's designs are impenetrable. Here, right in 
the heart of the country, in villages where our faith 
is most highly honored, the Iroquois come from 


222 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


their lairs three hundred miles away and massacre 
the men and women, who, because of the holiness of 
their lives and the ardor of their zeal, are looked 
upon as the apostles of their country. 

Not one of us possessed the same great influence 
over the Hurons as did Joseph Chonentouaha, sur- 
named, The Christian. Nor could anyone of us 
preach as efficaciously about God as he, who had 
been converted from barbarism to sanctity. He was 
assassinated and scalped in his own field. 

I have not had the happiness of again meeting 
Father Jogues. On his arrival at Quebec, he was 
sent to Ville Marie. You say that his hands are 
constantly before your eyes — that you are ever 
praying the Blessed Virgin that the Iroquois may 
never take me alive. God’s will be done, Gisella, 
but an act of love is very perfect in the midst of 
flames. 

When we are at Saint Mary’s we meet in the 
chapel every evening for the singing of the litanies. 
The invocation, Regina Martyrum , usually is sung 
three times in succession, and invariably sends a 
thrill through the whole community, betraying the 
secret prayer that each one is addressing to the 
Queen of Martyrs. But who amongst us will ob- 
tain his request? Martyrdom is the better part, 
the glorious crown that is not given to everyone. 
Gisella, I know full well that it would require 
greater virtue than mine to win it; yet, I have 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 223 

hopes. How often have I not felt the power of 
Mary's intercession? It was to her care that I in- 
trusted my religious vocation and, later, my voca- 
tion to the missions. On arriving at Quebec, I 
went to her to obtain the favor of being sent to the 
Hurons. She, good, kind mother, secured the re- 
alization of my every wish. No wonder, then, that 
my confidence in her should be intense, now that I 
am begging for the supreme, the sovereign grace of 
martyrdom. You know that our house in Saint 
Mary's is dedicated to> her Immaculate Conception. 
Very dear to our hearts, it is also greatly beloved 
by our Christians. 

There the services are carried on with a solem- 
nity of ceremonial that dazzles these untutored chil- 
dren of the forest and attracts them from all quar- 
ters the better to celebrate Sunday, the True Day, 
as they call it. Their piety is charmingly touching 
and fervent. They often band together to recite 
the beads. No one can help being deeply affected 
by the earnest devotion they display when, divided 
into two choirs, they repeat the Angel's beautiful 
greeting to Our Lady. 

The catechumens also come to Saint Mary's to 
prepare for baptism ; the sick and maimed are borne 
hither to have their wounds healed and sometimes 
to die with greater consolation. 

God has favored us with an abundance of corn, 

the main article of diet in the country. Even dur- 
15 


224 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


in g the most severe famine, we were able to serve 
three meals a day to our numerous pilgrims. Our 
hospitality, of course, is looked upon as truly 
magnificent. 

In my mission of Etharita, I am overwhelmed 
from morning till night, with a whole world of 
catechumens and Christians. Pray for me, that I 
may not spoil the work of God’s grace. 

Farewell. My earnest wish is that you love our 
Lord with complete devotion. 

This letter, together with another that the mis- 
sionary had written to his mother, reached France 
towards the end of the year. But Madame Gamier 
never received her son’s letter. She had, in the 
autumn of 1644, gone to her reward. 

Mademoiselle Meliand had stood by her bedside, 
and ministered to her with the utmost affection until 
the last moment. Immediately after the funeral, 
she had entered the Carmelite Novitiate, in the Fau- 
bourg St. Jacques, where the letters were delivered 
to her. 


CHAPTER XXXVI 


Five years had passed, and the prosperous Huron 
country now lay in ashes. The Jesuits in charge 
of Saint Mary’s, heart-stricken at the sufferings of 
their flock, decided upon a course of action as har- 
rowing as it was urgent. 

In the vicinity of their dwelling nothing seemed 
changed. On all sides the aged trees still ob- 
structed the* view from Saint Mary’s, but beyond 
this boundary-line of foliage not a Huron village 
was to be seen through the forest; a few broken- 
down palisades, half-burnt posts and cinder-covered 
clearings alone remained to show where they had 
stood. Silence and desolation brooded over the 
land; the whole Huron peninsula had fallen into 
dismal ruin. 

An army of a thousand Iroquois had, without 
their presence ever being suspected, spent the whole 
winter in the country. They had travelled the 
three hundred miles that separated them from their 
prey without being discovered, and, during the 
night of the 16th of March, 1649, they attacked 
the village of Saint Ignatius, then at sunrise that of 
Saint Louis, three miles from Saint Mary’s. The 
Huron braves, alarmed by the cruelty wreaked 
225 


226 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


upon their kin by the merciless invaders of their 
peaceful hamlets, hastily gathered up their scanty be- 
longings, set fire with their own hands to their 
cherished homes, lest they should be made to 
shelter the hated Iroquois, and then fled some in 
one, others in another direction. Fifteen large vil- 
lages had thus in a few days been abandoned and 
reduced to heaps of ashes. 

The Jesuits’ dwelling alone remained standing in 
these terror-stricken regions. Around it, on the 
evening of the 14th of June, 1649, while the sun 
still lighted with its sinking rays these rude but, to 
the Indian eye, magnificent buildings, all was bustle 
and restless activity. Religious, soldiers, work- 
men and servants were afoot, hurrying to finish 
their work of packing before nightfall. Bundles, 
cases, sacks of corn and acorns were being piled up 
in bark canoes to be transferred by the Frenchmen 
to a small roughly-constructed vessel then riding at 
anchor in the river. 

Inside the fort a number of Hurons had as- 
sembled. Not a motion, not a look betrayed the 
anguish that was rending their hearts, as they sat 
there mourning for their dead. Suddenly the toll- 
ing of the bell was heard. In silence they rose 
from the ground and proceeded together, men, 
women and children, to the chapel whose door 
stood open to receive them. 

The altar was still unstripped of its ornaments. 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


227 


The beautiful picture of Mary Immaculate was still 
there, surrounded with a halo of burning candles, 
but the sanctuary lamp had disappeared, the taber- 
nacle was open, and before the altar stood a coffin 
that bore traces of the earth from which it had been 
taken. Soon forty Frenchmen joined the Hurons, 
and side by side they knelt before the railing. 

The two doors in the rear of the sanctuary were 
thrown open, and the missionaries to the Hurons 
came forth and stood around the coffin. Charles 
Gamier was there in his place, but others were 
missing, never again on earth to mix with their 
brethren. They were Isaac Jogues, whom a blow 
from an Iroquois hatchet had felled to the ground 
on the 1 8th of October, 1646; Antoine Daniel, who 
during the attack of Teanaostaiae on the 4th of 
July, 1649, had advanced alone to meet the enemy 
so that some few of his Christians might escape 
while the Iroquois vented their rage upon him, and, 
lastly John Brebeuf and Gabriel Lalemant who on 
the 1 6th day of March, of that same year, 1649, had 
been cruelly tortured to death by the inhuman ene- 
mies of their flock and whose remains were enclosed 
in the coffin just disinterred. Before beginning the 
prayers, Paul Ragueneau, the superior, turned to- 
wards the kneeling group of Indians and French- 
men and said in Huron: 

“ God be praised ! The true mark of Christi- 
anity, the cross, is stamped upon this infant church. 


228 THE MASTER MOTIVE 

You all realized, my brethren, that it would be utter 
folly for us to tarry in these deserted regions where 
none would visit us save the Iroquois in their death- 
dealing hordes. We, also, must leave this hallowed 
spot, and now for the last time we have gathered 
to pray in this chapel. Lest, however, the enemies 
of our faith should desecrate the house of the one 
true God, we have resolved to do as you did with 
your homes. Our departure from Saint Mary's 
must be saddened by the burning of what we hold 
most dear, God’s home in our midst. We had at 
first decided on settling on the island of Ekaentoton, 
on account of the many advantages it offers, but 
twelve of your chiefs have begged us to join them 
on Saint Joseph’s Island, where many of your tribe 
have already gone. They have assured us that 
they all purpose embracing the Faith and that in a 
short while we shall have none but Christians on 
the island. 

“ Brethren, we are now going where God seems 
to be calling us. We are here only for you, and, in 
spite of the dangers to which we are exposed, we 
will transfer our headquarters to where your fel- 
low-Hurons are most numerous. We are happy, 
my brethren, to share your dangers and sufferings; 
not one of us but is ready to die for you, as many 
of our number have already done. We cannot tell 
what God has in store for us, but suffer we must and 
suffer greatly. Hold fast to your faith in the 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


22 9 


midst of these trials. Christians are not meant to 
be happy on this earth. We shall find happiness 
unending in heaven.” 

The Superior then knelt with his brethren and 
began the recitation of the beads. Father Bressani 
followed with the singing of the litanies, to which 
his brother religious responded. This chanted 
prayer, so solemn and impressive, was the last to 
mount to heaven from within the walls of Saint 
Mary’s. The altar was then stripped, and the 
beautiful picture of the Blessed Virgin taken down 
from its place on the wall. 

Then four religious raised the coffin to their 
shoulders, and falling into line behind the Cross, fol- 
lowed by their brethren, carried their precious bur- 
den through the chapel doors, down to the canoe 
that lay in waiting. The superior and Charles 
Gamier, stood and watched the frail bark as it sped 
over the water, fearful of losing sight of their treas- 
ured relics, until they saw them safely stored on 
the vessel. 

Then Father Ragueneau turned to his compan- 
ions, and, more as if he were thinking aloud than 
addressing them, said : 

“ When I think that those with whom we have 
lived in such close intimacy are now ranked among 
the apostles and martyrs, it seems to me impossible ; 
I must be dreaming.” 


230 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


“ Ah! ” rejoined Charles Gamier, “ if God would 
only grant us to die in a like manner.” 

“ Possibly there will be others of our number 
who will lay down their lives for God’s cause, but as 
for me, I have lost all hope. To prevent me from 
baptising a dying man, a Huron once aimed a cruel 
blow at my head with his tomahawk, but not one 
hair of my head was touched. Doubtless, I was 
not worthy to die for our holy faith.” 

Charles Gamier smiled but said nothing. They 
both then returned to Saint Mary’s, their Paradise, 
as they were wont to name it. There it stood be- 
fore their eyes, a glorious monument to years of 
heroic and crucifying toil; an astounding proof of 
the power of the human will. No wonder that at 
the thought of abandoning it and reducing it to 
ashes, the two Jesuits should feel bitter sorrow. 
And yet, not a word of regret fell from their lips. 

“ Poor wretches! ” murmured Father Ragueneau, 
as he watched the Indians preparing their meal of 
ground corn. “ It was, I assure you, a pitiful 
sight to see them trooping here on the 16th of 
March. During the forenoon alone, we welcomed 
more than five hundred fugitives.” 

“ You have still, I believe, a large number of 
these fugitives at Saint John.” 

“ Yes, the bulk of the tribe took refuge in our 
mountains, and they are beginning to feel the pangs 
of famine.” 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


231 


“ Unfortunately that's the ease everywhere. As 
soon as we reach Saint Joseph's we shall set to 
work at our buildings. The Island of Ekaentoton 
offers many more and greater advantages, but it is 
too far away. The poor Hurons can not make up 
their minds to put sixty leagues between their new 
settlement and the land of their fathers, to which 
they still cherish fond hopes of returning. . . . 

You know that Father Chabanel is already at Saint 
Joseph’s? He has set the Indians to work felling 
trees and preparing a place for their future homes." 

“ Are you going by the large boat ? " asked 
Charles Gamier. 

“ No, I have had a log raft built for Father 
Bressani and myself and the greater number of our 
Frenchmen. Our Indians have their canoes." 

“Poor Hurons !" sighed Father Gamier, “their 
enemies' rage is not yet sated." 

“ No; we must be ready for anything. You are 
greatly exposed to visits from the Iroquois. Once 
at Saint Joseph's, we will try to provide some kind 
of shelter for our Christians. A few of the Fathers 
will paddle around the coast in canoes, to visit those 
who are hiding among the rocks. Father Chabanel 
will continue to keep you company at Saint John's. 
Do try to teach him Huron. ... It is very 
strange that, with his intelligence, he makes no 
headway in the Indian dialects." 

“ His mind and heart are filled with repugnance 


232 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


for everything connected with the savages; their 
customs, their language, everything that has to do 
with them, fill him with loathing. Yet, Father, he 
perseveres in his vocation. Though unceasingly 
urged to return to France, he refuses to abandon 
his cross. He has even bound himself by vow never 
to ask to be recalled.” 

Robert LeCoq here interrupted the Fathers’ con- 
versation. He came to inform the Superior that 
everything was ready for their departure and that 
he and his companions were awaiting orders to set 
fire to the buildings. 

“ Begin on the palisade,” Father Ragueneau re- 
plied, and then, turning to Charles Gamier, he 
added: “ You will find all in readiness in the cel- 
lar. Let us offer our holocaust to God.” 

The religious bowed obedience and went imme- 
diately towards the house. The pallor that over- 
spread his face alone betrayed the struggle that was 
waging within his heart. He walked rapidly 
through several apartments until he reached the 
community-room. 

Here he stopped for a moment, overcome with 
emotion at the remembrance of the happy hours 
spent beside that rough hearth and the delightful 
brotherly meetings so often held there. 

A resinous torch stood nearby. He lighted it at 
the embers still glowing in the grate, then, lifting 
the trap-door, let himself down into the cellar. A 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


233 


moment later, and he had set fire to the twigs and 
stubble with which the floor was littered ; then with- 
out a backward glance he remounted the steps to 
the community room. . . . There, before the 

grate he awaited, in silent prayer, until smoke and 
flame drove him forever from his beloved home. 
By this time the four crosses on the palisade were 
aflame, the boat was getting underway, and the 
birch-bark canoes, laden with fugitives, were begin- 
ning to move down the river. 

Beyond all doubt, the abandonment of Saint 
Mary's was a trial most harrowing in its bitterness 
for the Jesuits, yet not a word, not a tear, betrayed 
the depth of their soul-crushing anguish. 

With the utmost kindness, — forgetful of their 
own sufferings — they continued to look to the 
needs of the unfortunate Indians, now more than 
ever dependent on them for help and hope. 

Fathers Gamier and Chabanel embraced their 
brethren, gathered up their scanty travelling kit, 
and before the grief that was gnawing at their 
hearts could master them, made haste to hide them- 
selves in the depths of the forest. 

In the meantime the fire had made rapid headway. 
Saint Mary’s fort had become a seething furnace, 
from which flames were shooting towards heaven. 


CHAPTER XXXVII 


Saint John the Evangelist's mission was situated 
in a wide valley in the Petun hills, known to-day as 
the Blue Mountains. Besides the Hurons who had 
taken refuge there, it consisted of about six hundred 
families. It was some time since the two Jesuits 
had resumed their dangerous post. The winter was 
setting in, and a light fall of snow covered the 
ground. Outside the palisade that protected the 
village, the giant trees of the forest stretched forth 
their naked branches. 

The entire village had been unusually excited for 
the last few days. Word had been received that 
the Iroquois, three hundred strong, were on their 
way to attack it, and the Tionontates, men of skill 
and courage, as the Relations remark, were elated at 
the news. Sure of victory, they waited joyfully. 
The warriors had painted their faces and held them- 
selves in readiness. Night after night the sound 
of the Chichikoue was mingled with the shuffle of 
the dancers' feet and with their death songs. 

And still the Iroquois did not appear. Tired of 
waiting, the Tionontates decided to go and meet 
them, and on the fifth day of December before sun- 
234 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


235 

rise, they silently left Etharita and took to the war- 
path. 

It was almost noon, and the two Jesuits had just 
dismissed the catechumens. Squatted before the 
fire, Father Chabanel was preparing his Huron les- 
son. 

“ Before hearing your lesson I shall see after our 
dinner,” Charles Gamier said, gently. He took a 
few handfuls of acorns from a bag, and putting 
them in a large pot, he covered them with ashes; 
then filling the pot up with water, he hung it Indian- 
fashion, above the fire. 

A horrible famine was draining the country. For 
weeks the two missionaries had been obliged to live 
on acorns ; but Father Gamier had not as yet shown 
any signs of dejection. 

His companion watched him silently and with un- 
wonted interest, and when he came to sit beside him, 
instead of beginning his lesson, he turned his smoke- 
inflamed eyes upon him and said : 

“ Tell me, do you never grow faint-hearted at 
the thought that probably God intends to prove your 
love by giving you a long life, and asking you to 
live and die among the Indians?” 

“ Ah ! ” Charles Gamier said, with a sweet smile, 
“ what a blessing to be surrounded solely by per- 
sons whom you can love with a supernatural love 
alone.” 

“ How fortunate you are,” remarked Father 


236 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


Chabanel, who still continued to look at Charles, 
“ nothing appears loathsome or painful to you ; to 
be reduced to eating the food of swine, and to get 
barely enough of that to keep one from dying of 
starvation; to be obliged to live in smoky hovels, 
where each sense is tormented in turn, to have to 
endure the Indians the day long, and their terrible 
stench — and to be tortured night and day by ver- 
min — ” He ceased abruptly. 

“ My dear brother,” Charles Gamier answered, 
with infinite gentleness, “ it is for the love of God 
we are suffering these and many other miseries.” 

“ Then I shall never abandon the missions,” 
Father Chabanel said with determination — “but I 
cannot conquer myself — I accept my sufferings like 
a coward.” 

“ No, not at all,” Charles replied, “ but you suffer 
without consolation. God allows you to feel the 
weariness and rebellion of human nature still.” 

Father Chabanel rested his head upon his emaci- 
ated hands for a few moments. But he soon lifted 
it. 

“ Let us get at our Huron,” he said with a smile. 

What a depth of actual pain and undying regret 
that resigned smile concealed ! Charles Gamier 
pressed his companion’s hand in loving sympathy, 
and was about to start the lesson, when a draught 
of cold air warned him that some one had entered 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


237 

the cabin. Turning his head he noticed that a very 
tall Indian stood motionless inside the door. 

“ Cunning Stag/’ he whispered, as he recognized 
one of the Hurons who had sought refuge at St. 
Joseph’s. 

“ You are welcome, my brother,” he said aloud 
as he went forward to meet him and invite him to 
warm himself. With a strangely light step, the 
Huron crossed the cabin and stood almost immova- 
ble beside the fire. 

With his powerful frame, fearless piercing eyes, 
symmetrical and shapely head and his broad shoul- 
ders, this Indian was a splendid type of man in the 
uncultured stage. He was dressed in beaver, torn 
moccasins covered his sinewy feet, but notwithstand- 
ing the bitter cold, he was bareheaded. 

“ You come from Aendoe ?” 1 Father Gamier 
asked with a pure Indian accent. 

The Huron bowed his head in assent. 

“ Was it Aondechete who sent you? ” 2 

The messenger answered by diving into his 
beaver coat and drawing forth a letter which he 
handed to Father Gamier. The letter was from 
the Superior. After giving a few particulars con- 
cerning the mission he said : 

“ Thank God we have made wonderful progress 

1 The Island of Saint Joseph. 

2 Father Ragueneau. 


238 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


with our work. Now we are sufficiently fortified 
to resist any attacks from the Iroquois. But your 
position grows daily more perilous, and I have de- 
cided not to allow you two missionaries to remain 
any longer in such an unprotected spot. Owing to 
the terrible famine, I fear also that you may find 
it difficult to procure food enough to nourish both 
of you. Let Father Chabanel return to Saint 
Joseph immediately with my messenger; I think it 
would be well if you were to leave your mission for 
a little while and come here and rest. I should be 
glad to see you return with Father Chabanel; if 
there is any danger of your dying of starvation, I 
command you to return at once.” 

Charles Gamier read the letter, and without any 
remark, handed it to his companion. After learn- 
ing its contents, Father Chabanel returned it to 
Father Gamier, saying with a sad smile: 

“ Exactly one month before Father Brebeuf suf- 
fered martyrdom, I received orders to leave him, 
and Father Lalemant took my place. What are 
you going to do ? ” he added, looking at Father 
Gamier. 

“ I am not in danger of dying of starvation ; I can 
live on acorns for a long time to come ; so I intend 
remaining with our poor Indians.” 

Father Chabanel did not insist; he» knew his en- 
treaties would be useless. 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


^39 

“ When do you wish to leave ?” he asked the 
Huron. 

“ This evening, my companions and I wish to 
sleep at Ekarennondi .” 1 

“ Have you any message for the Fathers?” 

“ Yes, I have a white bark that speaks,” Cunning 
Stag answered. 

Father Chabanel made a bundle of his poor torn 
clothes and Huron manuscript. Then he went out 
to say a farewell prayer in the church, over which 
a magnificent oak spread its leafless branches. 

Meanwhile Charles Gamier took a sheet of paper 
and a bottle of ink from a box, and sitting down be- 
fore the fire he wrote his superior the following 
letter, which has been preserved in the Relations. 

“ I am certainly suffering from hunger, but there 
is not the least danger of my dying of starvation. 
Thank God, my body and mind are still quite vigor- 
ous ; I have no fears on that score. What I do fear 
is, that if I abandon my flock during this time of 
misery and war now when they need me most, I 
might miss the opportunities God is allowing me to 
spend myself for His service, and thus become un- 
worthy of His future favors. I am already too 
careful of myself, but should I see my strength 
giving out, as you, Reverend Father, command me, 
I promise I shall not delay in returning to you, for 
I am always ready to leave all to die through 

1 Saint Mathias, three leagues from Saint John. 

16 


240 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


obedience where God wants me. Otherwise I 
should never consent to come dowm from the cross 
where His love has placed me.” 

When he had finished his letter, he sealed it and 
handed it to the messenger, asking, at the same 
time: 

“ My brother was at the taking of St. Louis? ” 

44 Yes,” answered Cunning Stag, who sat smok- 
ing before the fire, “ and like the Black-robes, I 
had been consigned to the flames, but I managed to 
escape.” 

“ You saw the Fathers die? ” 

“I saw Echon die, and while they were tortur- 
ing Atironta , 1 I succeeded in breaking the cords that 
bound me, and soon I was beyond their reach.” 

44 Will my brother tell me all he saw?” Father 
Gamier asked. 

After taking two or three long deep whiffs of his 
pipe, Cunning Stag emptied it, and fixing his dark, 
piercing eyes upon Charles Gamier, he said : “ The 

Black-robes could have escaped death very easily, 
for when the three survivors of Saint Ignatius came 
to give the alarm, the Chiefs entreated them to es- 
cape to Saint Mary's with the other fugitives : 
4 Why should you remain,' they asked, 4 when you 
can neither wield the tomahawk, nor handle the 
gun?’ 4 We shall remain to open heaven to you,' 
Echon replied. First, they hastened to the cabins 


1 Father Lalemant. 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


241 


of the sick and crippled who had been unable to es- 
cape. All during the attack they remained at the 
breaches, beside the wounded and dying, encourag- 
ing and consoling everyone by their presence and 
their words. I suppose you heard the Black-robes 
were brought to Saint Ignatius to suffer martyr- 
dom.” 

“ I heard all about it,” answered Father Gamier, 
“ but tell me what you saw with your own eyes.” 

“ Echon’s body was already all bruised and bleed- 
ing, when the Iroquois led him to the spot where he 
was to be burnt alive. He walked with great diffi- 
culty, still he appeared quite joyful. He knelt to 
kiss the stake to which he was to be bound and to 
say a prayer. While the Iroquois were binding him, 
he noticed us all about him and raised his voice to 
say : ‘ My children, I pity you more than I do my- 

self; let us keep our eyes on heaven, while our 
sufferings last, remembering that God is witness of 
our tortures, and that He will soon be our great and 
eternal reward/ They brought him his little com- 
panion, who cast himself at Echon’s feet and kissed 
his wounds. Atironta was covered with pine bark 
and looked like a child — too weak to endure any 
torture. The Iroquois led him to his stake and 
bored him with awls ; they cut off slices of his flesh, 
which they roasted before his eyes. But it did not 
suit their palates and they threw it away in disgust. 
Finally, they set fire to the pine-bark in which he 


242 THE MASTER MOTIVE 

was wrapped; when he felt the intense heat of the 
flames, he threw his arms up to heaven and groaned 
aloud. He could not help giving some signs of the 
intense pain/’ 

“ Did Father Lalemant have a lingering death? ” 

“ Yes, for they threw him into a cabin to go and 
wreak their fury upon Echon. Echon was a hero, 
he had the heart of a great chief, and the most un- 
heard of tortures were powerless to extract a groan 
or a sigh from him. His tormenters found his flesh 
delicious, and they ate it with delight. The Iro- 
quois know how to handle the knife dexterously; 
they can cut off flesh to the very bone without injur- 
ing the vital organs. They filled his wounds with 
fire, and still Echon suffered unflinchingly and firm 
as a rock. From time to time he raised his voice 
to console the Hurons and to preach to his execu- 
tioners ; then they cut off his nose and lips. But as 
Echon continued to speak of Christ, they drove a 
red-hot iron down his throat. His gaze remained 
steady, confident and commanding. You know the 
Iroquois fear great disasters when those they torture 
give no sign of pain. Moreover, they were crazed 
with rage and despair. Some apostate Hurons 
helped to torture the Father, laughing and jeering 
at him all the while. They boiled a large pot of 
water, and tearing off his scalp, they baptized him 
three times with it in succession, accompanying the 
action with the most horrible mockery. As Echon 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


2 43 

still breathed, they tore his heart out and devoured 
it to get a little of his courage. I have told all.” 

Charles Gamier had listened in breathless atten- 
tion, his eyes riveted upon the Indian. 

“ Ah, if God would only give me a similar death,” 
he said earnestly, when Cunning Stag had ceased 
speaking. 

Seeing that Father Chabanel had returned, he 
rose and unhooking the pot he took out the acorns 
that had been boiling in lye, and washing them care- 
fully in clear water, he chose those he considered 
the best, gave them to Father Chabanel and the re- 
mainder he divided between the Indian and him- 
self. By boiling the acorns in lye, a little of their 
excessive bitterness is extracted — but still they are 
not a very palatable dish. 

“ You suffer from hunger at Saint Joseph’s, 
too?” 

“ Yes, since the French have settled there the ref- 
ugees come from all quarters. Hunger and suffer- 
ing are the guests of our cabins,” Cunning Stag 
remarked, as he rose to take his leave. 

“ My dear brother,” Father Chabanel said, as he 
approached Father Gamier, “ I am going because 
obedience recalls me, but believe me, it pains me to 
leave you here alone amid so many dangers.” 

Father Gamier pressed his hand in silence. 

“ Even yet the Indians find it hard to understand 
me,” continued Father Chabanel. “ I was never 


244 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


much comfort to you in your work and trials, but 
still you were not quite alone.” 

Charles Gamier smiled, and a flame lighted his 
eyes — those eyes that always appeared to get a 
nearer, clearer and truer insight of things than any 
one else’s — as Gisella was wont to remark. 

“ I have a premonition that we shall not be long 
apart,” he remarked quietly. Father Chabanel felt 
an indescribable shudder go through him, and he 
gazed steadily into Charles Garnier’s eyes, as if he 
fain would read his very thoughts. 

“ Either I shall not obtain it, or I shall return 

% 

soon,” he said. “ At least one must serve God until 
death. . . .” 

The religious clasped one another in a loving em- 
brace. 

Father Chabanel picked up his bundle, and, 
throwing his blanket over his shoulder, he embraced 
his companion again. 

“ May the Blessed Virgin keep you in her loving 
care,” he murmured. 

Standing at his cabin door, Charles Gamier 
watched him with earnest gaze as he went through 
the village. 

Ever since the departure of the warriors, the set- 
tlement had been unusually quiet. Thick columns 
of smoke rose from a hundred huts scattered 
throughout the snow-covered valley. 

Father Gamier soon lost sight of his companion 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


245 


who had often turned to wave back fond farewells. 

He lingered a few moments to look up at the 
sky which was already alight with frosty stars ; then 
he entered his smoky hovel, carefully securing the 
door upon himself. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII 


Like Saint Francis Xavier, our early missionaries 
honored the Immaculate Conception with a special 
and tender devotion. ' 

Their first chapel in New France was consecrated 
to her honor and to her watchful care they had con- 
fided Saint Mary’s, their beloved home. The Rela- 
tions still preserve the vow made and renewed by 
these Jesuits each year that they might, through her 
powerful intercession, obtain the conversion of the 
Indians. 

But Charles Gamier had vowed to honor our Im- 
maculate Queen with a chivalrous devotion far 
greater than that of his co-laborers. While still a 
youth, he had gone one day to the ancient chapel 
of Our Lady of the Angels, in the forest of Bondy, 
near Paris, and there, kneeling before her altar, he 
promised to defend at the sacrifice even of his life 
her Immaculate Conception; that glorious privilege 
that had raised her as far above the other saints, as 
heaven is above earth. 

The memory of all this returned to him with 
pleasant vividness as he made the fire in his cabin, 
on the morning of December seventh. Again he 
trod the green shady path to this revered shrine, 
246 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


247 


which a warm sun was flooding with its bright light 
. . . and his heart glowed with loving gratitude 

as he thought how magnificently the Queen of 
Heaven had rewarded his boyish devotion. 

At quite an early hour, Father Gamier entered 
his poor cold church, where the few who had re- 
mained behind in Etharita had already assembled. 

He said Mass surrounded by these poor Indians 
whose faces bore the marks of terrible hunger. 

After Mass he said the prayers aloud and received 
all who wished to speak to him. On returning to 
his cabin, he found the children waiting for his 
instruction, which occupied his time till noon, when 
he dismissed them with kind words and caresses. 
And now for the first time that day, he broke his 
fast by eating a few acorns. At three o'clock in the 
afternoon, when Father Gamier was making the 
daily tour of the cabins, the blood-curdling cry of 
Natahoue! Natahoue! The Iroquois! The Iro- 
quois ! echoed through the quiet village. 

The warriors who had gone to meet the Iroquois 
had taken the wrong route and they, cunning de- 
mons, had chosen this time, when they knew the 
settlement was deserted and unguarded, to make 
their attack. 

Charles Gamier was seated in one of the cabins, 
instructing a poor sick Indian, when the first cry 
of alarm was given. He rushed out immediately, 
but he saw at a glance that no one was preparing 


248 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


for defense, nor was anything to be expected from 
these terrified people, whose best and bravest war- 
riors were absent. He went straight to the church 
where the Christians were taking refuge, and in a 
voice that dominated the tumult, he said : 

“ Fly, my brothers, fly ; escape which ever way 
you can. Strive hard to keep the Faith for the re- 
mainder of your lives, and when death overtakes you 
may it still find you steadfast in the service of God.” 

He blessed them in the name of the Father, and 
of the Son and of the Holy Ghost; kneeling for a 
moment before the image of the Blessed Virgin, he 
prayed aloud saying: 

“ Dearest Mother, I thank you. I know now I 
shall celebrate the glorious feast of your Immaculate 
Conception with you in heaven.” 

Taking a vessel of water with him, he went off 
in haste to baptize the sick and dying. Oh, what a 
vision of hell met his eyes as he set forth. The Iro- 
quois, like a legion of devils, were running through 
the village howling in their mad delight and fury. 
The flames were already rising from both ends of the 
settlement, and the cruel Mohawks with fiendish 
glee, were throwing old men, women, and little chil- 
dren into the fire. 

The terror-stricken people were powerless to de- 
fend themselves. 

Father Gamier was anxious to be everywhere at 
once, to baptize, absolve, and turn their thoughts to 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


249 


God. Amid these scenes of diabolical cruelty he 
looked more angelic than ever before, fear or danger 
having apparently no terrors for him. 

Several Hurons who had found a means of es- 
cape, came to him, begging him to flee with them. 

“ No,” replied the Jesuit, “ my duty is to remain 
here beside those poor Indians who have no hope 
of escape, but every certainty of death.” 


CHAPTER XXXIX 


An April sun was quickening nature once more, 
and Paris was gladdened by its warmth and bright- 
ness. 

In the Carmelite monastery, Faubourg St. 
Jacques, the nuns were returning to their cells, 
when Sister Gisella of Jesus was called to the parlor. 

Father Henry of St. Joseph, now Provincial of 
the Carmelites, was waiting for her outside the 
black wooden grating; his face bathed in tears, 
shone with such deep triumphant joy, that she re- 
mained standing before him in silent surprise and 
alarm. 

“ Daughter,” he said, “ God is truly magnanimous 
in His rewards, and I come to bring you great and 
glorious news.” 

One thought alone entered Gisella’s mind, but she 
did not dare express it, so she crossed her hands 
beneath her scapular to still her beating heart, and 
waited. 

“ The Jesuits have received news from Canada, 
and, dear Sister, you have every reason to rejoice, 
for, on the seventh day of December, God granted 
Charles the great grace of martyrdom.” 

Sister Gisella of Jesus uttered no word, but bliss- 
250 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


251 


ful, hallowed, inexhaustible tears welled up from 
her very heart, and leaning her forehead against 
the grating, she drew her veil over her face. Was 
it the instinctive act of a modest soul stirred to its 
very depths ; or was it that she might better hear the 
words of faith, by which she had lived — words of 
life and light, which at that moment were inundat- 
ing her with infinite joy? I doubt if she ever could 
tell. The Carmelite watching her, and the memory 
of an hour in the past, Gisella's first hour of grief, 
returned to him in all its intensity. 

“ My child,” he said, “ having participated so fully 
in his sacrifices, you are sure to share his joy and 
glory in heaven.” 

“ How happy he must be,” she said, lifting her 
head, and looking at Father Henry. 

“ Yes,” answered his brother, “ he is happy!” 
And in a transport of joy he repeated the words of 
Mother Church : “ What voice or human tongue 

can tell, oh my God, of the wonders Thou hast re- 
served for Thy martyrs? Still crimsoned by their 
blood they receive the crown of eternal life.” 

“ Did the Iroquois torture him much ? ” she 
asked, after a moment's silence. 

“ They did not torture him at all.” 

“ Praise be to our Immaculate Mother,” she 
murmured, and smiling through her tears, she said, 
“ Tell me Father, all you know about him.” 

Mastering his emotion, Father Henry began: 


252 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


“ Charles was alone at Saint John. His com- 
panion on the mission 1 had been gone two days 
when, towards nightfall on Tuesday, the seventh of 
December, the Iroquois unexpectedly attacked the 
village. The warriors were absent; they had gone 
to meet the enemy. It was a horrible and cruel 
massacre. Like many others, Charles could have 
escaped, but he refused to do so. His charity kept 
him at his post. Nor did he shrink from the horri- 
ble death that awaited him. He sacrificed his life 
for the salvation of the Indians. The Iroquois 
made prisoners of all those whom they considered 
strong enough to keep up with them. The others 
they butchered. They bound the children and sick 
in the huts and then set fire to them. Charles ran 
hither and thither, to comfort the dying and pre- 
pare them for heaven. He fought his way into the 
burning huts and baptized the children and 
catechumens amid the flames. Receiving two balls 
in the abdomen, he fell to the ground. The Iro- 
quois who had shot him found him lying uncon- 
scious, bathed in his blood, and believing he was 
dead, he was satisfied with robbing his body. 
Shortly after he regained consciousness, he was 
seen with his arms uplifted preparing for heaven.” 

1 Father Chabanel never reached Saint Joseph’s. He was 
assassinated on the way by an apostate Huron, who admitted 
having killed him because he had never been happy after he 
became a Christian. 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


2 53 


Father Henry ceased speaking for a few moments, 
to give vent to his fast falling tears, then he con- 
tinued : 

“ Charles was dying, and still his Indians occu- 
pied his thoughts. Lying in his own blood, he 
turned his head in every direction striving to dis- 
cover what was taking place around him. A few 
paces from him a poor Huron, who had been mor- 
tally wounded like himself, was writhing in an agony 
of pain. Scarcely a breath of life was left in 
Charles when he perceived him, but he managed by 
sheer strength of will to get upon his feet. He had 
only taken two steps when he fell heavily to the 
ground. He succeeded a second time in regaining 
his feet, only to fall again. Seeing he could no 
longer walk, he dragged himself to the wounded 
man, and while he was preparing him for death, an 
Iroquois dealt him two blows with a tomahawk, 
opening his head to the very brain.” 

Sister Gisella of Jesus had remained perfectly 
motionless during this recital. For her everything 
in life had been blotted out, save the face of the 
heroic missionary who lay before her eyes bathed in 
his blood. 

Then, carried back to the past, she saw him again 
as he had appeared before her that day on the cliff 
facing the sea, when he was wrestling with himself 
for the mastery of his heart. 

“ Ah, Father,” she said, lifting her face, radiant 


254 


THE MASTER MOTIVE 


with joy, “ how happy he must be, not to have 
yielded to earth’s pleasures, but to have done God’s 
most holy will.” 










































































































































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